Midnight Runners
by dan.kiselev
Summary: A story about the adventures (and misadventures) of the Midnight Runners - a small Clan of Guardians newly come together in the Tower, as well as the politics and conflicts that surround them.
1. Chapter 1 - All or Nothing

Chapter 1 - All or Nothing

The setting sun has washed the tower in vivid shades of rose, lavender and yellow. Dezdemona found the sight very appropriate and comforting - her return marked with the Royal Colors spilling across this symbol of the Guardians power. She was coming back from a patrol run, tired and sore. This was just what she needed to take the edge off. As her 'Damsel' pitched forward into its approach vector she made sure that her shaders were set to just the right hues of purple and gold, matching the light show below. There was a time that she felt uneasy, even somewhat fearful - openly displaying her loyalties as a Queens woman in the Tower. Not anymore. Now she loved everything about wearing the Royal Colors. The way they set off her blue skin and bright red crest of heir, and the way they showed everyone where her true loyalties lay - with her people. Her ghost gave the unnecessary warning about the upcoming trans-mat, and she wondered - not for the first time - if there was a way to change the voice setting on the thing. She keyed up the cargo case to be trans-matted with her just as the tell-tale haze of matter displacement obscured her vision.

Her eyes refocused on the Tower plaza, a far less magnificent view than the one she was treated to on approach. The faint scent of ozone that always accompanied any trans-matt arrival was quickly fading on the cool evening breeze. The familiar hum of her jump ship's engines receded into the night as she picked up the cargo case that had had materialized at her side. The plaza was nearly deserted, and that's how she liked it best. With the creeping shadows cast by the dying sun streaking across it's worn pavers it looked like some forgotten war memorial - a place of ghosts and faded glory. Which is exactly what it was, as far as she was concerned. All the Guardians going on about their business may have created an illusion of life, but that's all it was - an illusion. "We are all walking dead here" - the words escaped her before she had the chance to catch them, but there was no one around to hear them regardless.

It did not take her long to reach the upper tier residential blocks. The door to his flat was left wide open, as always. She knew how she would find him before she made her way inside, and she was not wrong. Sitting at the weapons bench, eyes like arc-blue pinholes in the deepening twilight of the room, her uncle looked completely at ease amidst the implements of death and destruction decorating the walls around him.

"Death becomes you" - once again, she spoke without thinking, but lately she's found it harder and harder to care about minding her tongue.

His mouth twitched into a customary half-smile - "So does Life, I hope. We all have both in equal measure". He set aside the ancient auto rifle he was cleaning and sat back - "How did it go?"

She ignored his reply and approached the workbench. Always having an answer at the ready was one of his more frustrating traits. Setting down the cargo case amidst the clutter of tools and oiled rags she punched in the pass-code - "Archers Line is crawling with Fallen. They're like cockroaches - for every one you kill two more crawl out of the cracks." The vacuum seals released with a hiss and the case slid open, spilling the golden light of its contents into the now darkened room. Inside, rows upon rows of helium coils pulsed with unearthly radiance. "But in the end, that's all they are - cockroaches."

The concern on his face irked her even more then his know-it-all attitude - "Don't give me that look - as you can see they were not a problem. I did not become a Guardian yesterday." She hated sounding like a child, but that's exactly how she felt when dealing with him. They were both adults now, and yet things between them always seemed to revert back...back before the dying. Before coming back. Back to when they were both kids and everything was Summer. Her Ghost knew enough to keep quiet.

He nodded slowly in response and reached inside his coat - "I've got something for you too." When he drew his hand back out, the last remnants of light seemed to flee the room entirely. At first she could not make out exactly what he was holding. It looked like a black hole torn in an already dim and dreary reality, a jagged darkness with a faint greenish glow pulsing at its heart. He tossed it to her and she caught it on instinct. It felt warm to the touch. Warm and strangely heavy. She could feel the faded horror of this thing, like a shadow of a long forgotten nightmare - and then she knew what it was: "Thorn."

He nodded - "Don't worry, I made sure to sever any link that it had to its former masters..."

She slammed the weapon on the table hard enough for the cargo case to jump. The startled look on his face would have been funny any other time, but all she could do was grind out one word through the haze of frustration - "Why?"

Confusion replaced surprise on his face - "You're my niece, no matter how long..."

- "Not what I'm talking about!"

- "Then you'll have to explain yourself a bit better than this." - his voice took on a harder edge as he gave her an expectant look.

- "Look around!" - She was just as surprised at her own outburst as he was. She had to admit to herself that this has been eating at her far more then she realized. "Look around you. This is the Last City on Earth! All remaining sentient life on this planet is huddled together within a few dozen miles of their broken God. Nowhere else for humanity to go. This is our, no, your last stand! So then, where is the leadership to see this City through its darkest hour? The Consensus is a jumbled mess of confusion and chaos, the Factions vying for the limited resources available in order to pursue their own unique vision of the future. The Speaker sits in his tower, mouthing empty, pithy phrases. No unity, no cohesion. And the Guardians?! The strongest, most able defenders of the City? Just as fractured, if not more so. The Vanguard Council is a joke! They don't give orders, the award bounties. Do you understand that? They _bribe_ their fellow Guardians to carry out strategically crucial operations with better gear and more powerful weapons!" - she started laughing, a note of hysteria creeping into her voice.

- "So this is why you've pledged your loyalty to the Queen?" - his voice was carefully neutral, but she could still hear a note of disapproval. How dare he.

- "Yes. I may look like a traitor to some, but I tried. I swear to god I did. I spent nearly a year trying to do things like everyone else. Hunting bounties, running the Crucible, working with the factions." - Her face twisted in a grimace of disgust - "And for what? We spend more time here fighting against each other then against the ugly bastards trying to wipe us all out. All that effort - diffused, unfocused. It's like this City can't make up its mind on what the hell it wants to do, so it just flails around helplessly. So I left. I had heard of the Queen and the Realm of the Awoken, but I had to see for myself. I needed to know how they were able to survive, out there, sitting right underneath the deepest Dark you can imagine." She had to try and make him understand - "She is magnificent. Holding the Reef against the Fallen and who knows what else with the sheer strength of her will and clarity of vision. The Queen is the only reason the Awoken are still there. Still fighting. No Factions, no Councils. Just her. And when I arrived, she did not turn me away. She answered my questions and offered me a place in her service. She is a true leader, a true Queen. How could I refuse her?" - It felt so good to talk about this. To tell him the why and the how. And to ask him in turn - "That's what I don't understand: I told her about you, told her that I have an uncle who, by some freak twist of fate is also a Guardian. She gave me leave to extend an offer of Royal Service to you. And you said 'No'" - She looked at him with the same shock and disappointment she felt then. "I don't get it. You are one of the most insightful people that I know. You work so hard, risk so much." - She picked up Thorn - "I have a pretty good idea what you had to go through to get this, and to make it safe enough to use. You have to know that your efforts, your talent is wasted here. While this City is barely able to maintain its perimeter, the Queen has acquired an entire Fallen House! With our help, she can regain control of the Belt. And from there, start retaking the Inner System. And yet, you still refuse? Why? Why work so hard - for nothing?"

She felt spent and strangely empty. She had gotten it all out, said what she had to say. She could only hope that he would be just as open.

- "Sit down" - he motioned to a chair pushed up against the wall.

- "What?" - of all the things he could have said...

- "Pull up a chair. Sit down" - he reached into a bench drawer and pulled out a bottle and a pair of shot glasses that looked like they were made from heavy caliber shell casings - "Let's have a drink."

Too tired to argue she pulled the chair over and sat down facing him across the workbench. It felt good to sit. She had forgotten in the heat of the conversation just how sore she still was from the patrol. Leaning back she watched him pour the dimly glowing neon pink liquid into the improvised shot glasses. A faint but distinctive smell filled the room as he set aside the bottle - "Drink up."

She picked up her glass - "Smells like warp dive coolant."

"You may have just discovered the secret ingredient" - he knocked back his shot.

"Hell with it" - she followed suit. The chemical smell shot up into her brain as liquid fire burned its way down her throat. For a moment she couldn't breathe. And then the burning faded into a warm glow that seemed to roll out through her aching muscles like a warm summer breeze. She melted back into the chair - "What the hell is this stuff?"

"Edge City 'shine" - he was already refilling their shots. - "They run it out of an old scrap reclamation plant on the western outskirts."

"Consensus know about this?" - she reached for hers once it was full and emptied it without any urging from him.

"I'm sure someone is getting a kickback somewhere. Now, to answer your questions. First things first - I declined the Queens invitation because I don't like her politics, I don't like her brother, and I sure as hell don't like her. However, without the Awoken of the Reef holding up all those Corsair Fleets the Fallen got scattered throughout the Belt, the City would be overwhelmed in" - he rolled his shoulders as if looking for a proper timeframe - "months, if not sooner. Fact is, the Queen is the only potential ally the City's got. And like it or not, you're now her direct representative to the Vanguard Council. I guarantee you, that's why she sent you back here, rather than keep you at her side."

She shook her head - "Petra Venj..."

He waved his hand dismissively, cutting her off - "..is nothing more than a good will ambassador. She's here to hand out some trinkets, run some PR and get the Guardians accustomed to not shooting at any non-Guardian that's got a gun. I said I did not like the Queen, I did not say she was stupid." He leaned forward to refill their jiggers. "It's clear she sees the need for closer cooperation. Or it may be that she knows of some new horror getting ready to come screaming out of the Outer Darkness. Either way, once Petra runs out of her stock of souvenirs, she's gone. You, on the other hand" - he raised his shot-glass to her - "are now the only real means of secure communication between your Mistress and the leaders of the City. "

She picked up her shell-casing-turned-drinking-implement and sipped at the drink. It tasted vile. She made a face and he laughed - "You're doing it wrong."

"So this is an all or nothing type of concoction, huh?"

"Pretty much" - they both emptied their shots and set them back down. He didn't move to refill them again. - "Now, as for the City's leadership. Yes, it's fragmented. But that is actually far more of a strength then it is a weakness. Unlike the Awoken of the Reef, the threats we face are many and diverse. No one single approach would work in our case. All of the different Factions and Clans of this City provide an endless source of ideas and tactics. Of course, this requires constant communication, which is why from the outside it may look like the City politics are nothing more than an endless shouting match. The fact that there aren't enough resources to go around make the situation that much more tense. But the centuries of war have taught the people here how to handle these disagreements without turning on each other and starting an internal bloodbath."

"Except for the Guardians" - she said it more as a statement then a question.

"True. But we are a special case" - he picked up the bottle and motioned to her, but she put her palm over the shot glass and shook her head. The stuff was strong, and she wanted a clear head for the rest of this conversation. He nodded and capped it up. "We can kill each other all day, and call it a training exercise. As long as the light of our Ghosts is not drained away we can't really die. The point is, the governing structure of the City is exactly what it needs to be for us to survive. If it wasn't, we wouldn't still be here. If anything," - he cocked his head at her the same way she remembered him doing when they were kids - "I daresay your Queen, with her iron fist and velvet glove, would be ill equipped to hold this City. And keep this in mind - it cuts both ways: if the City falls, it won't be long before the Realm of the Awoken is swallowed up as well."

The sun has long since set. The glow of the helium coils was that much brighter in the darkness, almost drowning out the sickly green aura of Thorn. The only other source of light in the room were their eyes - the icy glow of his and the solar heat of hers.

"Last but not least: I don't know who around here sees you as a traitor, but I certainly don't. In fact, I'm glad that you were able to place your loyalties away from the City, and away from the Traveler." - he let the words hang there, and took her a moment for it to really sink in.

"Wait" - she sat forward, the easy comfort of moonshine fading like gun smoke - "What are you saying? You though the Traveler may have somehow been able to prevent me from doing so? Like he can control what we do?" - her Ghost stayed quiet. Smart move. She had no idea what his Ghost may have been saying to him this entire time, but she has developed a working understanding with hers - and she was at least glad to see that understanding was holding.

He nodded - "Think about it. All of us Guardians were brought back from the dead by these Ghosts, these fragments of the Traveler - an entity whose capabilities and motivations we have only begun to understand. As long as these...beings, are bonded to us, we cannot die. But we can't separate ourselves from our Ghosts either, now can we? That means that essentially, we are all linked to the giant cracked space ball hanging over the City in a massive network. And just like any network, I'm thinking it can be used to control its substations" - he motioned to her - "that would be us."

Her body felt numb, and that no longer seemed like a good thing - "But isn't the Traveler dead?"

He smirked and shook his head - "I doubt that something, someone of that magnitude can ever truly be destroyed. I think it's going through some sort of a hibernation/reboot cycle. Who knows, we Guardians may even be essential to its re-awakening. But that's why I was so glad to see you freely able to serve a power not directly allied to the Traveler. I think I would really hate being a zombie, even if it's for a good cause."

His attempt at humor felt flat and hollow to her. The realization that in the midst of her personal crisis of faith, she has failed to see something this glaring was not a pleasant one.

He did not give her time much time for reflection - "I do want you to keep one thing in mind" - the sudden urgency in his tone made her refocus - "The Queen is an absolute monarch. The trouble with all autocrats is that they bear sole responsibility for the fate of their entire nation. That tends to make them see all of their individual subjects as chess pieces - expendable, given the right set of circumstances. Make no mistake, you are one of the most valuable pieces on her board, but if she feels she needs to, she will sacrifice you without a second thought. I'm not telling you this to try and shake your loyalty to her, I just..."

It was her turn to cut him off - "I know" - She shook her head and smiled - "I appreciate you looking out for me, but I knew what I was jumping into before I took the leap. I may be wet for her, but I'm not blind."

If he was surprised by her admission, he gave no sign - "Glad to hear..."

Whatever else was going to be said was interrupted by the light cutting on above their heads.

"Ay, you smarty-pants Warlocks always hold your deep conversations in the dark?" - the slight distortion in the voice, typical for all exo's, carried a familiar note of wry humor. Even as she was blinking rapidly, trying to shake the sudden blindness, she found it strangely satisfying to see her uncle finally startled by something.

"Damn it, Barter, you ever knock?" - he was shielding his eyes from the light, but neither one of them needed to see the speaker to peg his identity.

"I move silent, like the breeze. Besides, you're the one always leaving your door wide open."

As her eyes adjusted she could see the him leaning against the doorjamb, his cloak draped just so over his left shoulder.

Her uncle was still rubbing his eyes - "That a new one? Looks nice."

She had only been back in the Tower for about a month, but she already knew how passionate her uncle's second in command was about his cloaks.

"Thanks, Russo. Yeah, just got it" - the dapper Hunter came off the door and turned around, posing - "I wanna look good for the ladies."

Her uncle laughed - "What ladies? You do remember what we're getting ready to do, right?"

"Hey, you never know who you're gonna come across out there." - Barter turned back around to face them - "Last time I did a run into the Hellmouth, came across this Hive witch - she couldn't keep her claws off of me."

"I'm pretty sure your rugged good looks had nothing to do with that."

"You don't know that" - Barter suddenly looked at her - "That's a nice new toy you got there."

She looked down at Thorn, laying forgotten at her elbow. The massive six-shooter did not seem nearly as ominous now, bathed in the artificial light of the rooms main projector. She guessed Barter must have been part of the Fireteam her uncle took to acquire it - "Thank you."

"Oh, don't thank me. I wasn't in on that ride." - Barter turned to her uncle - "Ay, Russo, wasn't that Chief and Hurtful?"

She still had no idea how they came up with their call signs, but she knew whom he was talking about. Hurtful was a human Warlock, a Voidwalker. Calm and reserved, he was easy to overlook next to all the loud and colorful personalities of their Clan - until you got to see him in action. Unlike most Voidwalkers that she knew, he didn't live off of the flashy and devastating abilities of that school, saving the Nova Bomb only for the most dire of circumstances. Instead he relied on his uncanny accuracy with whatever weapon he was sporting at the time, able to thin the enemy from the back before the front runners of the Fireteam ever made contact.

Aside from being another human Warlock, Chief was the exact opposite. A Sunsinger, and the only female of their Clan, it was impossible to miss whenever you were in the same room with her. Or on the same comm channel. Verbose and opinionated, she always had something to say about everything, even if only to point out that the sky was blue. And 'point out' was really the wrong way to put it - she proclaimed it as a Universal Truth, like a Traveler zealot preaching on a street corner. But there was no one you would rather have on your Fireteam in a tight spot, when some random piece of Fallen shrapnel had shredded it's way though your guts and you're hoping one of your teammates can revive you before your Ghost is destroyed. More often than not, that someone ended up being Chief. In her extensive collection of ancient artifacts was a winged helmet, a relic that one of the Cryptarchs called 'Light Beyond Nemesis'. It somehow harmonized with the Light frequency of their Ghosts and made the process of reviving fallen Guardians that much faster. She wore it everywhere and put it to great use.

Her uncle nodded - "Yes, they helped out with that one. Never been that deep into the Hive before." - suddenly he looked old - "We still have a lot of cleaning up to do down there."

"Not gonna get it done sitting around here" - Barter activated his portable inventory trans-mat system and a helmet materialized in his hands - "Ready to roll?"

Russo stood, picking up the auto rifle he was cleaning when she arrived. He looked at her - "It's late, and you look tired. If you want, you can crash here for the night." With that, he headed out the door.

"Later, Drez." - Barter flicked a two finger salute her way and turned to go.

"Bye." - the exhaustion and the moonshine almost made her miss it - "Wait, what? Drez? What the hell?"

"Your new call sign. I figure if you're gonna be running with us, you're gonna need one." - his voice was so matter of fact, she couldn't tell if he was joking.

"But, Drez? What the hell does that even mean?"

"That thing on your head" - he pointed to the crest of bright red hair cutting across her otherwise clean shaven scalp.

"Yeah, that's a Mohawk." - she was still trying to figure out if he was serious or not.

"Nah, a Mohawk is straight." - he made a chopping motion, as if to illustrate his point - "Yours just kinda goes diagonal. Looks like a Drez to me" - he shrugged - "Besides, can't keep calling you Desdemona - by the time I finish yelling 'Desdemona, duck' that minotaur is already gonna be standing on top of your corpse, and you'll only have your parents to blame." - he put his helmet on in one smooth, practiced motion - "Russo was right, you look tired. Get some rest."

Before she was able to respond he was gone, moving silently into the smothering darkness outside.

After they had left, she sat there staring at Thorn as it lay on the workbench, deceptively tame in the bright light of the room.

"They're right, I should get some sleep" - her own voice sounded hollow in her ears. But the evenings conversation kept rattling around in her brain, not letting her settle down and not resulting in any real thought either. It wasn't long before she reached across the bench for the bottle of moonshine and the two shot glasses.

"All or nothing" - she spoke the words like a benediction as she filled the two shell casings and emptied them one after the other.


	2. Chapter 2 - Naming Day

"Guardian Down!"

He hated that phrase. Hated it with a passion. Especially when it was referring to him.

His awareness floated in hazy red silence, the noise and chaos of battle muted to an afterthought. Even the searing pain burned into his scull by the wire rifle of the Vandal on his three o'clock has faded into nothingness. He wondered if this is what death was like - no fear, no pain, just peace and quiet.

_Yeah, unfortunately it's not like that at all_ - the words seemed to come from all around him. She was really laying it on thick this time, pitching her voice somewhere between naughty school girl and bar stripper.

_Then what's it like?_ - it took great effort to form the words in his mind, or what was left of it. All he wanted to do was just sink, and let the silence take him.

_You sure you want to have this conversation now?_ - his Ghost wouldn't let it rest, wouldn't let him rest - _Barter's the only one left standing, and if he goes down, you'll all get to find out what death is like first hand._

She was right. She tended to always be right. He focused the last remaining reserves of his will inward, on the warmth of the Sun, the Light of Creation that burned inside every living thing. This close to death the spark was faint, but he felt it's warmth and reached for it. It was like pulling a ripcord. The moment he touched it, the Fire Within burst forth in a blinding cascade of heat, and life, and fury. He felt his flesh re-melding itself in the forge of this inferno. Felt his veins coursing with liquid fire, his heart pulsing to the cosmic rhythm of super novae. None could stand against him now.

The Fallen did not agree.

The three Dregs that had taken up defensive positions around the rusted industrial crate next to his corpse screamed bloody murder and tried to bring their weapons to bear on his glowing form. He melted his hand through the face of the one directly to his right, cutting off its shriek in a messy gurgle of liquefied flesh. Before the headless body had a chance to hit the corrugated steel floor he tossed a Solar Grenade, incinerating the two remaining Dregs next to him. He had always felt it to be such a terrible name for something so magnificent. It looked like the sun itself, brought down to earth. 'Solar Grenade' did not do it justice. A barrage of shock pistol rounds glancing off of the burning sheathe of his Radiance reminded him that there was more to the Fallen detachment that had overrun their position than the three Dregs he's just killed. He took to the air on a burst of burning wind and let loose a flurry of Solar Grenades. In moments the entire landing had miniature suns blooming on every square foot of its scarred and pitted surface. The Fallen tried to flee, the Vandals to the rear making it the farthest. But there was no escape from the firestorm. He saw the last one stumble and fall, smoke trailing off of its charred and blackened armor.

Just as abruptly as it came, the flame left him. The addictive rush of power and vitality went with it. His heels clanked back to the floor, the almost blinding glow across his vision clearing to reveal a dull and dreary winters day. The ashes of the Fallen drifted all around him on a cold and bitter wind that kept tugging at the hem of his coat like a lost puppy.

"Welcome back, Russo" - Barter's voice echoed strangely across the stillness of the industrial ruins around them. The Hunter was perched on a rusted catwalk roughly fifteen feet above the landing, his custom rigged pulse rifle trained at the access tunnel the Fallen had used to spring their ambush, it's bayonet soaked with gore and liquefied ether. "Think you can get Wolf? Fluffy's reading hell of a lot of motion on the lower levels."

_Did he seriously call his Ghost 'Fluffy'? -_ her voice was once again a comforting presence in the back of his head _- If you're looking for Wolf, he's ten meters on your five o'clock._

Sure enough, he could see the all too familiar blue glow of Wolf's weakened Ghost hovering just beyond a pile of rubble behind him. He sprinted the short distance and vaulted over the low cover Wolf was using before being brought down.

_I want a name -_ even as she spoke he began channeling his Light into Wolf's fragmented Ghost. Within moments the glowing sphere of diffuse particles flared out and Wolf was once again amongst the living.

The big Hunter staggered back down to one knee behind cover - "Thanks. Does it ever get any easier?"

"The dying?" - Russo shook his head - "No. It never does."

Only six months a Guardian, Wolf was still earning his chops. Russo had thought long and hard whether or not to bring him on this run, but in the end he decided that there was no better way to gain real experience.

_So then stop second guessing yourself now - _her ability to know exactly what he was thinking used to annoy him to no end. Now he found it reassuring _- And looks like Fluffy was right. Heh. Fluffy. We're about to have company._ She projected the motion tracker in the upper left corner of his vision. It painted an ugly picture.

"Cover the access point" - Russo motioned to the gaping opening directly across the landing that by now had rapid sounds of movement coming from it. - "I'm going up to Barter."

Wolf nodded and materialized his heavy machine gun. Resting it on the pile of rusted metal they were using for cover, he slotted an ammo synthesis module into the gun's receiver - "My last" - he spoke the words like an apology.

Russo tossed him his own - "Stock up next time" - and took off into the air.

The catwalk that Barter had made his perch on was just as decrepit as the rest of the industrial wasteland around them. It offered an excellent vantage point, but left anyone taking advantage of it completely exposed. The Hunter had addressed that issue by slinging a pair of Dreg corpses over the catwalk's railing to serve as cover. They looked like they'd done a pretty good job of it so far, judging by the state of Barters armor. Russo touched down behind one of the Fallen bullet sponges and the catwalk shuddered.

"We're running low on ammo" - Russo stated the obvious - "If we can't make a push after we clear this wave, we're pulling out."

"We can do it." - Barter replied with easy certainty.

Russo envied that self assurance, even though he knew he didn't have the luxury for it - "I'm queuing up the retrieval vectors in case we don't." With a thought, he prompted his Ghost to send out the signal that put their jump ships on standby. It would take them a few minutes to make the run from low orbit, but that could end up being a few minutes too late if they were not ready.

Barter shrugged and threw a trip mine at the base of the access tunnel's arch- "Judging by the bounty, it's a small crew. This wave should be all they have left. We can do it." The mine stuck to the uneven surface and blinked red, indicating it was now armed.

_Trajectory plotted. We can make a quick exit if we need to. _ - Russo thanked the stars his Ghost knew what she was doing - _How 'bout 'Lucy'? It's a nice name...-_ She didn't get a chance to finish.

The rolling thunder of machine gun chatter exploded from below. "They're here!" - Wolf confirmed across the comm channel, even as he laid down the suppression fire. They both turned to see the first probing flight of Shanks exploding into clouds of tortured metal and electrical discharges. Vivid blue contrails of wire rifle fire answered from inside the access tunnel, forcing all three of them to duck behind cover. Moments later the swarms of shock pistol slugs filled the air. The machine gun went silent, and the Fallen battle cries echoed off of the rusted sheet metal as the Dregs poured out onto the landing. The trip mine explosion shattered the charge of the Fallen war dogs and scattered their broken bodies across half the landing. Wolf wasted no time bringing his machine gun up and once again the battle echoed with its heavy, insistent barking.

"See?" - Barter swung his own weapon over the railing and started rattling off tight bursts into the darkness of the tunnel below. "Nothing to - crap..." - he brought his rifle up just in time to parry the shock blades of the cloaked Vandal that had dropped down onto the catwalk next to them. Russo wasn't that fast. Pain blinded him as the second assassin tore right through his shield from behind. On instinct he threw himself into the air, the Power taking him nearly ten feet above the fray. His vision cleared enough to see Barter drive the bayonet of his pulse rifle into the gut of his attacker. The Hunter squeezed the trigger and the Vandal's back blew out in a shower of flesh and fragments of defensive plating. The second one, furious at being denied its kill, turned both of his arc-wreathed blades on Barter. Russo cut the Glide and dropped straight down, at the last moment driving his palm down onto the aliens' head. The snap discharge of solar fire washed down his arm and over his target, cooking the Vandal in its own armor. The entire catwalk reeked of burnt flesh and melted polymers. And all the while, the deep staccato of Wolf's machine gun accompanied their dance of death like some mad infernal orchestra.

"You alright?" - no carelessness in Barters voice this time.

"I will be" - Russo checked his shields and was glad to see them slowly re-engage.

_No further motion detected in the immediate vicinity. Sorry about that, boss. Their cloaks make them damn near impossible to pick up._ His Ghost needn't have apologized. The Fallen Vandals were notorious for avoiding detection when they didn't want you to know they were coming.

Glancing down across the landing Russo could see that the battle had reached a stalemate. The suppression fire from Wolf's machine gun had the Fallen pinned down inside the darkness of the access tunnel, but his ammo was bound to run out sooner rather than later. It would have already, if not for the synth module Russo had given him. The occasional line of wire rifle fire that blazed its way out of that darkness showed that while they may have been unable to advance, the aliens were still very much in this fight.

"This is our chance" - he hoped he was right. He turned to Barter - "Think you can blast us an opening?"

He could almost see his Exo friend smirk under his Hunter's helmet - "Thought you'd never ask."

Barter slung his pulse rifle around to his back, and activated the trans-mat inventory system. The shoulder mounted missile launcher that materialized in a rush of re-assembling particles was very much indicative of its owner: larger than life, sleek and deadly.

"Fire in the hole" - Barter called out across the comm channel, not bothering to hide his glee - "Ha. Literally!"

The rocket lanced down into the tunnel, the resulting explosion illuminating darkness inside as if eager to show off its own grizzly work. The mangled bodies of the Fallen caught in the blast radius were thrown up into the air like confetti. Nor was there any escape for the Vandal snipers that managed to find cover in time. The detonation showered the tunnel's interior with a hail of miniature cluster bombs. The drum roll of explosions that followed drowned out the cries of pain and hatred, until darkness and silence returned once again. Though not for long.

Barter jumped down from the catwalk, firing another missile down the tunnel's throat in midair. Penetrating deeper into the gloom, the rocket tore through the rear flank of the Fallen detachment, leaving a clear line of advance for the Fireteam.

Wolf needed no prompting. He jumped over his cover and dashed across the landing, clearing the corpses with easy strides of his long legs. By the time Russo had jumped down from the catwalk and made his way into the tunnel, Wolf and Barter have already taken up positions inside the smoke filled darkness, taking advantage of the same cover their enemies were using less than a minute prior.

"This is it" - Barter called out across the comm. "According to the readings, the relic is directly beyond this tunnel. Whatever it is." No one said the obvious - if the relic was there, then so was whatever was guarding it.

_I'm not reading any movement - _for once, she sounded worried. She had every right to be - they had almost exhausted their entire ammo supply, not to mention their physical and mental reserves. But to turn back now, when they were so close...

His auto rifle dry, Russo pulled the fusion gun around from his back and checked the battery life indicator. It read almost full, and he still had two more packs left - this was his best option. He could hear Barter reloading his pulse rifle to his right. Glancing at Wolf, he saw the young man check the ammo count for his HMG and curse under his breath - "Only twenty three left."

"Use it" - Russo told him. They would need the stopping power.

"Now or never" - if Barter was at all nervous, his voice did not betray it.

"Let's go" - to Russo, his own words played like déjà vu, having been said by him so many times before in situations far too similar to this one.

All three moved in unison through the length of the tunnel and into the dim light of the room beyond.

If the landing they'd just left was an industrial wasteland, then the room they found themselves in now was a technological tomb. The steel beams supporting the ceiling receded into the murky darkness overhead. Rows upon rows of ancient machinery rested across the floor overgrown with wasted, yellow weeds. At the back of the room, on an elevated platform rose a pile of human skulls, a Fallen banner hanging from the rafters above it. And in the midst of it all, like some malicious undertaker of this graveyard of human civilization, stood the Captain. Its house colors were worn and faded, its personal shield crackled with uneven energy distribution, and only four Vandals flanked it as its bodyguard. Yet the arrogance and disdain in its posture were not diminished in the slightest. Seven feet of armored plating and burning hatred, it raised its two shock blades to the Guardians and screamed a challenge. The shrapnel launcher it held in its second pair of arms echoed it's owner with a salvo of molten flack, and the Fireteam scattered.

The Vandals dashed forward, screaming their incomprehensible battle cries, but Wolf's machine gun drowned them out with its own crude song. As the heavy caliber slugs tore through the first one, the second Vandall leapt over the staggering body of its compatriot. It's blades panted a pair of energy trails through the gloom and crashed down on Wolf's shoulder plates. The Hunter staggered back, pieces of his armor flying loose. The Vandal shifted the points of its blades low and lunged forward, trying to catch its opponent off balance, but Wolf drove the barrel of his machine gun down and across, sweeping the blades aside and driving his shoulder into the Vandals faceplate. The alien reeled, it's arms flailing wide. With a primal scream, Wolf grabbed the barrel of his weapon with both hands and slammed it down on the Vandals head like a club. It went down on its knees, but Wolf kept swinging his improvised sledge hammer until both the gun and the helmet it kept slamming against were nothing more than a mangled mess of twisted metal.

Russo saw Barter engage the remaining two Vandals with his customary efficient calm, before all of his attention was completely taken up by the Captain. Evading the wide angle spreads of the shrapnel launcher was difficult enough without the rusted corpses of Golden Age machinery getting in the way. He threw a grenade at the Captains feet, and watched the large creature jump back from the ball of solar flame, it's shield barely depleted. Bringing his fusion rifle to bear he squeezed the trigger and the familiar whine of charging coils filled his ears. For all of its power, the charge interval was the one unavoidable flaw of any fusion weapon, and the Captain was certainly not going to let him take his time. Molten shrapnel once again filled the distance between them, and Russo took to the air, barely clearing the salvo. It took great concentration, and years of practice to keep the fusion rifle trained on its target in midair. The electric buzz of the coils reached a crescendo and bolts of energy slammed into the Captain's shield. With a blinding flash the defensive field collapsed and the Fallen leader screamed in pain and fury. But instead of backing off or trying to flee, the four-armed monstrosity lunged forward, hooking the Warlock out of the air with one of its blades. His own shield shattered, Russo slammed onto his back, all the air knocked out of him. The Captain brought both blades down in an overhand slash, and only the mangled metal club of Wolf's machine gun slamming across both of the creature's forearms kept the Awoken in one piece. Undeterred, the Captain drove his shrapnel launcher into Wolf's midsection hard enough to send the big man flying, and turned back to its intended prey. It raised both blades again, only to stagger back, the hilt of Barters dagger protruding from the left eye of its helmet. The creature shrieked, it's screams of agony mingling with the hiss of venting ether streaming out around the Exo's blade. Gritting his teeth, Russo brought his fusion rifle up and pulled the trigger. The charging coils lit up the entire scene in an eerie blue glow: the three Guardians scattered around the cornered leader of a dead crew, with the tattered banner of a broken Fallen House hanging motionless above them. The gun fired, the energy discharge washing over the Fallen Captain. For a moment it seemed like even point blank fusion fire was not enough to bring it down, as it stood there frozen, wreathed in the brilliant glow of its own destruction. And then, like some malfunctioning hologram, the Captain disintegrated in a glowing cloud of scattered particles.

Russo lay back groaning. He hurt in more places then he could count and the afterglow of the battle's final moments seemes to have burned itself into his retinas. It wasn't until Barter's outstretched hand appeared above him that he bothered trying to move again. Reaching up to grasp the gloved hand hurt just about as much as he thought it would, but he couldn't just keep laying there either - "Thanks. How's Wolf?"

"I'm fine" - sure enough, as Russo staggered up he saw the young Hunter standing there, the mangled corpse of his heavy weapon still in his hands.

"Which is more than can be said for your gun" - very few things could get Barter to stop cracking jokes - "We should maybe get Banshee to show you how you're supposed to use one of those."

"Ha ha. Very funny. And don't you dare tell Banshee about this." - Wolf dropped the now useless hunk of metal to the floor. - "It was empty anyway."

Russo took a moment to steady himself - "You did the area scan?" - he asked out of habit, the answer never really in doubt.

Barter nodded - "No one left 'round here but us chickens".

Russo nodded - "Then let's go take a look at what it is that we did all this for."

As they turned to go Wolf bent down to pick up the Fallen Captain's shrapnel launcher - "Hey, what about this thing?"

"What about it?" - Batter was already projecting his Ghost to scan for the relic's signature.

Wolf turned the cumbersome weapon over in his hands - "Well, what if it could be modded as a replacement?" - He sounded uncertain, as if still working the idea out in his mind.

"That thing is nothing more than an oversized shotgun" - Barter waved a dismissive hand - "Damn near useless more than twenty feet out. When was the last time you got hit with one of those?" - the Exo cocked his head to the side - "The shrapnel, I mean. Not the gun itself."

"You just couldn't let it go." - Wolf's sounded annoyed, but kept going - "But, if you retool the barrels for longer range, maybe put in a gyro stabilizer for the recoil, I dunno, have the barrels alternate for a faster rate of fire..." - he trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable under the weight of the stares from both of his more veteran teammates.

_It could actually work -_ Russo's Ghost threw up a flurry of weapon schematics across the lower part of his vision _- Overheating will certainly not be a problem with the way it's built._

"Take it to Banshee" - Russo dismissed the layers of projections with a swipe of his hand and nodded to Wolf - "See what he says."

"Yeah..." - Wolf was clearly not too enthusiastic about that suggestion.

"Don't worry, he'll be glad for a challenge" - Barter called back, already moving off towards the platform at the back of the giant room - "Just don't tell him why you need a replacement in the first place."

Wolf stood there for a moment, as if weighing the pros and cons of taking his idea to the crotchety old gunsmith. Apparently reaching a decision, he slung the alien weapon across his shoulder and turned to follow.

"Hey, Wolf" - Russo walked along side, letting Barter take the lead.

"Yeah?" - the big man had trans-matted his helmet away and drawn back his hood, revealing an unlined, open face and a short crop of bright yellow hair. Russo thought it made him look even younger, compared to how old and tired he himself felt.

"Thanks" - the Warlock put his hand on his Human friends shoulder, partly to show his gratitude, partly because he needed help hobbling along until his Ghost finished re-knitting the damaged tissue in his back - "For back there."

"Oh, no problem" - Wolf's expression struck a perfect balance between pleased and embarrassed - "You've done the same for me plenty of times."

Russo just nodded. He could remember the time when it was just him, Barter and Hurtful. They formed the Midnight Riders out of necessity, and because the three of them worked so well together. Never did he expect to have the clan grow, or to be the one helping other Guardians find their footing.

"You know, I was wandering" - Wolf glanced at Russo - "Why were they fighting so hard to keep us out? I mean, the House of Devils is over, their Prime destroyed. What good is a human relic to them?"

"Their Prime may be destroyed, but as long as even one Captain remains, there is a chance that a House can be revived" - Russo was glad to talk - "In order to do that, the Captain needs to gather enough followers to attract the attention of a Servitor. The relic is just a trophy, a status symbol, a means to impress the scattered survivors to come back together under the House banner. Though to be honest, this is just my best guess. I wouldn't take it to the bank if I were you."

By the time they reached Barter, he was standing on top of the platform, staring at the mound of sculls piled up on the flag-draped metal slab in front of him. His Ghost hovered above his outstretched hand, projecting a cone of light onto what looked like a piece of paper covered in dense writing. It was pinned to one of the sculls with a short Fallen dagger.

"This is it" - Barter's tone was flat.

"Really?" - Wolf sounded openly disappointed - "I didn't know Fallen used paper."

"It's not paper" - Russo shook his head - "And it's not of Fallen origin."

Barter turned to look at the Warlock - "How do you know? Fluffy here can't get any kind of readings from it at all. And when I try to read it, all I see is static."

"You mean the page gets covered in static?" - Wolf gave the paper a look he normally reserved for sewer rats.

"No" - Barter's voice lacked any of its customary levity - "When I try to read the page, all I see - everywhere - is static."

Barters Ghost chirped - "While I am unable to scan it directly, I am picking up a powerful cloud Entropic instability directly around the object."

Russo felt his own ghost project and initiate a scan - _Yeah, I'm getting the same thing. How do you know..._

He was no longer listening. Taking a deep breath, he silently went through a series of mnemonic drills designed to enhance mental focus while stabilizing his psyche against external influences. When he felt he was ready, he reached down, pulled out the dagger and picked up the page. The material felt strange in his hand, even through the glove - like a piece of vinyl with a powerful static charge that made your hairs stand on end. When he tried to read them, words on the page seemed to crawl and slither, like insects scattering to avoid the light. By the time he finished he had a massive headache beating at the back of his scull like some sadistic drummer.

"Do you still have that containment case?" - his own voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere far away. Barter simply reached under his cloak and pulled out an envelope sized metal box, opened it and held it out. Russo gently folded the page in half, laid it in the case. Barter snapped it shut and locked it down with a pass code.

Wolf looked completely unnerved - "OK, so what the hell is that? Were you able to read it?"

"No" - Russo dismissed his own helmet. The cold, dry air hit his nostrils like some bitter tonic. The headache receded. A little. "But I know the method that was used to make that encryption. I know who wrote it." - he rubbed his eyes, as if trying to wipe the crawling words from his vision - "Toland."

"Toland?" - Barter looked at the case in his hand like it was about to turn into a live grenade - "Toland the Shattered? That Toland?"

Russo nodded - "Looks like this is one of the pages form a journal he was known to keep."

Wolf looked lost - "Who is this Toland? Oh. Wait. My Ghost...oh. OK." The young Hunter shook his head. "Why did he go crazy?"

Before answering, Russo had his Ghost prompt their jump ships out of orbit - _ETA three minutes and twenty three seconds. Are you OK?_

Russo nodded - "Toland didn't really go crazy. He simply lost hope."

Barter gingerly secured the containment case to his belt, then turned his attention to Russo - "Alright, you have to level with me here. You told Drez that you were glad to see her side with the Queen because that meant we all still had free will. That we weren't just puppets of the Traveler."

Wolf's eyebrows climbed his forehead as his eyes widened in shock, but Russo simply shook his head - "You were listening for a while back there."

"It's my job to pay attention" - Barter shrugged - "But if Toland was banished, if he went so far off the path of a Guardian that he became a threat to the City, doesn't that imply free will?"

"It could. Or it could imply manipulation by a rival entity - like the Darkness." - Russo ran his hand through his hair. He was really looking forward to getting back home - "Fact is, even my niece doing what she did does not prove anything conclusive, one way or the other. Her pledging her allegiance to the Queen of the Awoken may very well have been the will of the Traveler all along. But after a while we all have a choice to make - do we continue to second guess our own actions and motives? Or do we accept what we see as truth, and make the best of our situation."

"Sounds like you're having trouble doing just that" - Barter picked up the Fallen knife that was pinning the cryptic page from where Russo had left it, and slid it into one of the many sheaths hidden under his cloak. His collection of daggers was famous throughout the Tower.

"Yeah, well" - it was Russo's turn to shrug - "It's my job to worry about these things. Why don't you take that page to Ikora. She will know what to do about it."

Barter shifted his shoulders in surprise - "You don't want to follow up on this? Normally you're all about his mystery type stuff."

"Nah. I've had my fill of this particular puzzle. It's all yours"

Leaning back in the pilot's seat, Russo closed his eyes. The headache was almost gone, thanks in no small part to his Ghost. The regenerative abilities of their link have saved him a great deal of pain over the last three years. They were less than ten minutes out from the Tower, and he was quite content to let her take control of the 'Trespass'.

_I got a question for you - _something about the way she said it made him open his eyes again. _Why do you think of the Fallen as an 'it'? I mean, even when we weren't on very good terms - and that's putting it lightly - you never thought of me as an it. You know they're sentient..._

"It's because I do know that they are sentient" - he spoke out loud, like he always did when they were alone - "We do some pretty brutal, nasty crap to our enemies. If I think of them as thinking, feeling creatures, not unlike myself, then I may hesitate." He waved his hand, as if dismissing some contradictory argument, even though she had said nothing in return - "I know what they have done. I know what I must do. But I also know myself. If I acknowledge that they feel and fear, the same as I do, then I may not be able to do the things I need to do." - the logic of his words seemed fuzzy at best, but he could find no better way to say it. "By the way, Lucy really is a nice name."

_Good. I'm glad you think so too. I think I'll keep it._

He smiled and closed his eyes again.


	3. Chapter 3 - Scavanger Hunt

"So let me get this straight" - the gravely, synthetic voice of the exo gunsmith was surprisingly well equipped for delivering biting sarcasm - "You have clearly gone and ruined a perfectly good heavy machine gun, so now you want me to drop whatever I'm doing and work on a custom weapon as a replacement. A weapon that is based on some harebrained scheme you and your buddies came up with while probably standing over the corpse of your mangled original." Banshee stood in his customary pose, leaning back slightly, his fingers laced across his midsection. The unblinking stare of his bright yellow optic sensors unnerved Wolf even more then it normally did.

_He's enjoying this. _Wolf had to agree with Ghost. The little sarcastic know-it-all did not project himself for this conversation, and Wolf could hardly blame him.

"Well, it's not really like that..." - Wolf hated having to justify himself, hated feeling this awkward, and most of all, hated that Banshee was right. Bringing this to the exo Gunsmith was looking more and more like a bad idea. But now that he was here, he was not about to back down - "Look, I did what I had to do. Yes, the gun is ruined, yes I ruined it. If I hadn't, I wouldn't be standing here right now. I came to you with this idea because I thought you would appreciate a challenge," - Wolf silently thanked Barter for giving that particular bit of verbal ammunition - "and because I'm sure my idea will work. In the hands of a capable gunsmith, that is."

_Ooh, living dangerously_. There were times that Wolf enjoyed the internal commentary of his Ghost. This wasn't one of those times.

For a very long and uncomfortable moment Banshee stared at Wolf, without moving or saying a word. Then - "Let me see this scap-yard reject the Fallen call a gun."

_Holy crap, it worked. _Wolf ignored Ghost and handed the shrapnel launcher over. Banshee took the bulky gun and turned it over slowly, like a jeweler examining a stone to determine its value. - "Ah. There."

"There what?" - the tall Human leaned in for a closer look, but before he was able to see much of anything the gun hissed and... came apart. All he could do was watch helplessly as with the precision of a surgeon Banshee dismantled the weapon, until the display bench that they were standing over was covered with alien weapon parts. "What the hell? What did you do that for?" - Wolf couldn't believe just how quickly the imposing gun was reduced to it's components.

"You whippersnappers are all the same" - Banshee reached down into the pile of metal that used to be the shrapnel launcher and picked up what appeared to be a cross between a sparrow exhaust port and a relic carburetor - "You come looking for expert help, but don't know what to do with it when you find it. This" - the gunsmith turned the strange device over in his well-worn metal hands - "is the actual heart of the gun. What in our guns would be the firing chamber, if the chamber also included a magnetic accelerator and an ammo synthesis module. All this other crap is just that - crap. You can't use it anyway, most of it is configured and optimized for its former owner. And last time I checked, you're tall, but you ain't that tall."

"Oh." - Wolf couldn't shake the feeling that the ornery gunsmith was still having a silent laugh at his expense - "OK. So, now what?"

"Heh. Now the real fun begins." - Banshee held out the device, and Wolf took it - "for you, that is."

Wolf looked up from examining his gun-to-be - "Why do you say that as if you're not going to be part of this 'fun'?"

"Because I'm not" - the gunsmith laced his fingers across his midsection, once again resuming his familiar posture - "Creating a custom weapon, let alone one based on an alien design is extremely time consuming. And I'm simply far too busy for that."

_What is he talking about? All he does is stand here all day._

Wolf couldn't help but agree with his Ghost out loud - "Yeah, all you do is just stand here."

"Didn't anybody tell you appearances can be deceiving? Look, I'm not going to make this gun for you, but I can tell you who can. If you're interested."

"Of course I'm interested!"

"Then you need to go see Ginger." - Banshee let the words hang there, until it became clear he had no intentions of adding any more information unprompted.

"Who the hell is this Ginger, and where am I supposed to find her?" - Wolf was trying his best not let the walking rust-bucket get under his skin. Trying and failing.

"Not her - him. Best gunsmith in the City - not counting yours truly. Finding him is the easy part - Zed Sector, Block 7B, Door 13. You'll need a boatload of glimmer, but that's not the hard part either."

Wolf was getting really tired of this game, but decided to play along a bit longer - "Oh yeah? And what's the hard part?"

"I'll let him explain. Wouldn't want to deprive him of the fun. Now, if you don't mind, I have other customers to tend to."

Wolf looked around to confirm what his peripheral vision already told him - though the Tower Plaza was full of activity, he was the only one standing in front of the gun smith's kiosk - "What customers? There's no one else here!"

"What did I tell you about appearances?" - with that Banshee turned away and proceeded to stare into space with the unwavering gaze of his optics.

_I think we're done here - _by the time Ghost had finished the sentence, Wolf was already taking the steps leading down to the main square two at a time. The sunlight was blasting down from a clear, ocean-blue sky and the breeze cutting across the top of the Tower felt warm and alive. The fractured sphere that was the Traveler practically glowed in the sun, casting a stark shadow across half the City. The young hunter wove his way between groups of Guardians clustered across the sun-baked plaza. As frustrating as the conversation with Banshee was, Wolf was none the less in a fairly good mood.

_Glad you could keep from trying to tear that senile old bastard apart - _Ghost sounded positively cheery.

"Why would I ever do something like that?"

_Because you whippersnappers are all the same._

"Really? Et tu, Ghoste?" - Wolf shook his head the moment the words came out of his mouth - "That was terrible"

_Yes. Yes it was. -_ Ghost was more the happy to agree _- You're no Barter._

"And who's side are you on anyway?" - actually, he was pretty pleased with the way the meeting with the old exo went, all things considered.

_The side of Truth. Truth and Justice. Come on, there's a transit shuttle heading down to Zed Sector from the east promenade in a few minutes._

Walking down the shuttle ramp, Wolf couldn't help feeling that he was stepping into a different world. The feeling was unnervingly similar to the one that he got deploying to the Cosmodrome, or Old Chicago - the place felt vaguely familiar, but desolate and almost tangibly hostile. The first thing to hit him was the smell. The acrid aroma of rust mixed with a faint but unmistakable stench of sewage, and whenever wind direction would change he caught a whiff of something else. It took him a moment to figure out what it was - "They've got a still around here somewhere."

_Yeah, with the way this place is looking, I think I'd need a drink or ten to be able to live here - _Ghost managed to sound both sarcastic and worried at the same time.

Normally that reply would have lead to Wolf making a joke about Ghosts inability to drink, but even banter seemed to be completely out of place here. The air itself felt oppressive and heavy, and it took him another moment to realize that the shadow he was standing in was not being cast by the shuttle. All around him, as far as he could see from the vantage point of the landing platform, the City was shrouded in the murky twilight of the Travelers shadow.

"Hey, buddy, if you're gonna gawk, could you do it somewhere else?" - the request came from a large Awoken male, wearing dusty coveralls and backed by a crew of equally dusty looking workers. "No disrespect, but we've got to get to work here - these crates ain't unloading themselves." Wolf hadn't realized that he had stopped dead in his tracks at the bottom of the shuttle off ramp.

"Sorry about that" - feeling slightly foolish and not wanting to start any trouble, he moved out of the way.

"Ya ain't never been down here, wot?" - one of the human workmen asked, slightly slurring his words.

"No, no I haven't." - the hunter wasn't sure how to proceed and Ghost wasn't being much help in the matter.

Luckily, the large foreman - Wolf could only assume that's what the Awoken that addressed him initially was - took the situation in hand - "Alright, you bums, this ain't your first day. Get to work, and stop pestering the tourist. Smiley, you're on Loader detail. Harvey and Grim, you've got the perishables. The rest of you know what to do" - He clapped his massive hands together for emphasis - "Let's go, we got thirty minutes."

The crew immediately started moving up the ramp, trailing obscenities and dirty jokes behind them. The foreman turned to Wolf - "You do stand out like a sore thumb though. Why don't you tell me what brought you down to our neck of the woods and maybe I can help you out here."

_Finally - _Ghost actually sounded relieved, his voice small in the back of Wolf's head _- I can't scan this area worth a damn. Too much interference from faulty power circuits and antiquated data relays. This whole place would make a great monument to post-collapse jury-rigging. _

The young hunter wasn't about to turn down any help - "I'm looking for a gun-smith named Ginger. He's supposed to live around here, and I need to..."

The Awoken shook his head - "Don't need to know what you need him for. Just wanna make sure you don't wander into any trouble down here." The big man motioned - "Take the lift down to street level and head towards the Wall for about three blocks, then hang a left. His workshop is on the right side, across from the chicken coop." With that, he started moving up the ramp after his crew.

_Did he just say 'chicken coop'?-_ Ghost echoed Wolf's own disbelief, but the Hunter had more important questions - "What kind of trouble could I possibly wander into?"

The man glanced over his shoulder - "Don't go exploring, and you won't have to find out."

_I'm sorry, but what the fuck? - _Ghost didn't curse often, preferring sarcasm and dry humor to make his points, but he was clearly flustered _- This is making zero sense. Who in the City would be dumb enough to start trouble with a Guardian?_

Wolf headed off in the direction of the lift on the other side of the platform without bothering to reply. The whole trip suddenly felt exactly like a patrol mission. The only reason he did not materialize his auto rifle was so as not to attract any more unwanted attention. Instead, he made damn sure to do a quick inventory check of all of his knives. He may not have Barter's skill with them, but they sure as hell weren't there for decoration, either. Stopping short of the lift gate, he did a visual sweep of the area surrounding the shuttle platform. Directly in front of him stretched rows upon rows of decrepit looking warehouses, some of the furthest ones looking like they've been converted into residential blocks. The alleyways between the grey structures were drowning in shadow, occasionally broken up by the harsh glare of light projectors mounted on the building walls. To the left and right stretched the mosaic of rust-red and charcoal-grey rooftops, edged in brilliant white of the afternoon sun in the distance. Behind him, rising over the darkened silhouette of the shuttle transport, stood the Wall. Even though it was at least half a mile distant, the massive structure dominated the horizon, looming over the entre Sector like a thundercloud. From the Tower Plaza, the Wall looked like a barrier, a dam to keep the tides of Darkness from swallowing the City whole. From here, it looked like the inside of a prison gate.

_You know, maybe this isn't such a good idea -_ Ghost sounded uncertain _- The shuttle's going back in less than half an hour and..._

"So what, I'm supposed to run away from my own people because I'm getting some weird vibes?" - Wolf swung over the railing and silently dropped down to the shadowed street two stories below.

_Don't believe in lifts, huh? Look, I don't think we're in any real danger here, but I am worried that we may end up in a situation where you might have to hurt somebody, and that's something neither of us wants._

"Like I said, I'm not leaving until I get what I came here for" - the young man made his way out of the side alley and onto the main street that ran along the length of the landing platform towards the Wall. The lighting was better here, thanks to a scattering of street lights and strands of glow-wire strung up between buildings.

_I think you and I both know that's not why you're so determined - _Ghost did not materialize in order to provide additional illumination, and Wolf did not force the issue _- Now you're more interested in finding out what that guy meant by 'trouble'._

The street wasn't especially wide, but the pedestrian traffic was light, so they made good time. The passerby's acknowledged the Guardian, some nodding, some waving as they went, but all gave him the same look - a look that said 'Why are you here?'.

"It's like they aren't used to seeing a Guardian around these parts. Look, I've spent every day since being brought back by you fighting for this City, for these people. And now I'm finding out that the people I've been fighting for may see me as..." - Wolf groped for words, not liking where his own thoughts were headed.

_As something other than their hero? -_ Ghost finished the sentence in his usual, dry tone_ - Yeah, this is kinda weird. OK, so we keep going. That means this is our turn._

Wolf rounded the corner, and sure enough - "I'll be damned. It really is here."

The entire length of the wall on the left side of the street was lined with gutted cargo crates, converted into poultry pens through the generous use of wire mesh. Stacked on top of each other, they rose nearly two stories tall to completely obscured the wall building them. Whoever came up with the idea even had the ingenuity to line the pens with sheets of sound dampening plastic, so that the incessant clucking could only be heard here, directly in front of the coop.

_I kind of though the whole 'chicken coop' thing was some sort of code for, I don't know, a sleazy night club, or something. I'm really starting to dislike how this place is making me not have all the answers. Also, I think that we may have found 'trouble'._

Wolf was already watching the group approach. He initially spotted them sitting in the shadow of the coop, playing some sort of card came with an upturned plastic bucket serving as their tabletop. At first, the Hunter dismissed them as being any kind of threat - it only made sense to have someone guarding what was clearly an important enterprise. Now, that seemed like a mistake. But as the shadowed figures stepped into the cone of stark light cast by the projector behind him, they resolved into four unkempt and grimy teenagers. Their ragged appearance was so at odds with their menacing glares and confrontational stances that Wolf couldn't help but laugh out loud.

_That may not have been the most diplomatic thing to do - _Ghost was not amused.

"Fuck you laughing at, Zombie?" - the young man was large, but the peach fuzz he was clearly trying to grow into a beard pegged him as no older then seventeen. His sleeveless coat was open at the front, his pale arms and chest exposed in a show of muscle and scars.

_OK, so he's the Heavy._

"Yeah, shit ain't funny down here, Dead Man." - the other boy who spoke - it was hard to think of him as anything but - was half the size of the Heavy, but Wolf's instincts screamed caution. His stick-like blue arms were never still, and the glowing green embers of his eyes looked downright ominous glaring from under the shadow of his crumpled grey cap.

_And that's the Toady. If this little merry band holds true to form, the other two will be the Leader and the Gofer._ - Ghost initiated a quiet scan of their immediate area.

'The other two' were flanking Wolf on both sides. On his left stood a lanky teenager with large, nervous, brown eyes, who looked like he would rather be somewhere else. The oversized coat with far too many pockets draped over his bony shoulders made him look even more comical and harmless. On his right stood a girl that, in spite of being human, reminded him of Dezdemona. Or Drez - he was still having a hard time getting used to the new nickname Barter gave her. One side of her scalp was shaved bare and decorated with a jagged looking tattoo. The remnant of her hair was dyed neon green and swept over her right eye. The black leather jacket and knee high orange boots capped off the eye-burning outfit. But it was the too-thoughtful look on her face that brought Drez to mind.

_Scan complete. They're all armed - pipes and chains, most of them. The girl's got the only gun in the bunch. Some sort of rudimentary homemade shotgun, if you can believe it. That does peg her as leader, though - _all traces of humor were gone from the synthetic voice in the back of Wolf's head. _- They won't pose a problem for you. I would suggest trying to talk the whole thing down, but if that fails - go easy on them. I'm just as confused by what's going on here, but it won't help us figure it out if we start maiming the locals._

Wolf almost asked what exactly he was supposed to be talking down, but he did not get the chance.

"An answer sometime this week would be good" - the girl spoke in a clear, demanding tone that once again brought Drez to mind.

_So, she is the Leader - _Ghost sounded almost relieved _- Just talk to her..._

"Look, I have no idea what the hell's going on here" - Wolf was tired of being careful in his own City, tired of being treated like the enemy and tired of not getting any answers - "Now, I got some questions for you..."

"Wrong answer, Zombie!" - the Heavy pulled a rusted chain from inside his coat and swing it in an overhand arc.

_Here we go - _"Enough!" - Wolf stepped into the Heavy, driving the back of his elbow into the teenagers jaw. The large body shuddered backwards, falling into the Gofer. The two went down in a tangle of coats and muffled curses.

_Watch out... -_ "I wasn't revived yesterday" - the Toady was quick, but Wolf grabbed the sharpened bit of pipe right before it connected with his stomach and twisted. The kid went head over heels carried by his own momentum right at Leader. The girl was too quick. She jumped back just as the little blue runt sailed past her. Then she drew. It wasn't so much a shotgun as it was a blunderbuss. The massive barrel looked like nothing more than a heavy pipe, and electrical tape seemed to be its other main component. But Ghost left no doubt _- Be careful. It's one shot, but it packs a punch._

The young Hunter felt like the whole situation was playing out like some sort of a crazy holo-vid in front of him, and he was just some casual viewer, watching this bizarre dramedy unfold - "You know, even if you hit me, it's not going to bring me down."

"Fuck you, Dead Man." - the girls breathing was rapid and he could see a dribble of sweat running down her cheek pale, dirty cheek, but her hands were steady and the gaping black hole of the muzzle never wavered - "If you killed Richter..."

"All I did was just give him a headache. Unlike you, I'm not in the business of harming my own people..."

"We ain't your people, Dead Man" - the girls tone was sharp and vicious, like slap in the face.

Wolf ground his teeth - "You know, I'm really getting tired of people calling me that ..."

"All right, thas 'nuf o' that" - the raspy voice cut through the air between them like a rusty saw. The cough that followed could have only come from a bronchitis patient or a heavy drinker. Wolf was willing to bet a lot of glimmer it was the latter. Neither he nor the girl looked in the direction of the speaker, but her posture changed ever so slightly and she called out - "This ain't none of your business, Mav."

"Ya made it ma business when ya kicked up this dust-up righ' where ya know I'm s'pose to be keepn' the peace" - the words had the drinkers slur to them, the man was clearly hitting the bottle. "Go on Jezza, take ya boyz n' go. An' don' give me no slop 'bout guardin' them chickens. Ain't nobody gonna touch em'."

For a very long second the girl stared at Wolf, spite smeared across her face like bad makeup. Then she stepped back and pulled up the barrel of her gun - "C'mon, you pussies. Get your asses up. We're going."

The rest of her crew were already picking themselves up, trying to look like they were not being careful not to touch Wolf in the process. For his part, the hunter stood completely still, keeping an eye on their retreating backs. Once they disappeared around the corner, he turned to look at the owner of the raspy voice.

The man that stood leaning against the doorjamb cut into the wall directly opposite the chicken coop looked like almost a perfect distillation of what Wolf came to think of Zed sector. Tall but stoop-shouldered, he had dark circles under the eyes and bits of food caught in his course, scraggly beard. The beard was far longer than it had any business being, reaching down to drape across his bulging gut. The ragged duster sat poorly on his frame, as if originally belonging to a man with far better physique. However, it was what the man held in his hands that engraved the entire image in Wolf's mind. In his right hand the man held a bottle. Unlike the rest of him, it was clean and clear and almost seemed to glow from the inside with neon pink iridescence. In his left hand he held a gun. Not just any gun - it was a Silvered Maverick, a massive ten-shot hand cannon. A gun that was well known for its accuracy and was favored by the older Hunters. Just like the bottle it was spotless, the silver finish polished to a dull sheen.

_Um, unless my sensors have gone completely wonky, I'm reading a Ghost - _Ghost sounded more uncertain then he has ever been. _- I think he's a Guardian. Maybe._

"Mav, right?" - Wolf had no intention of letting his guard down, Ghost or no Ghost.

The man hawked and spat on the dirty pavement, then wiped his mouth with a ragged coat sleeve - "Only reason fe' a clean lil' hunter like you ta be here is ta see Ginger" - the man suppressed a cough starting deep in his lungs - "In here."

The man called Mav turned slowly, as if pivoting on invisible strings pulled by a clumsy puppeteer and disappeared into the gloom inside the door. For the moment all Wolf could do was stand there, trying hard to keep his temper in check.

_I got nothing. This whole thing has gone way beyond making sense some time ago._

"Well, someone is about to get something" - Wolf forced the words through clenched teeth and moved forward. Bracing himself for whatever curveball this place might throw at him next, the young hunter stepped through the door...and was pleasantly surprised to find pretty much what he expected when he left the Tower plaza, what seemed like hours ago.

The door opened directly into a large workshop, illuminated by massive projectors suspended from a twenty foot ceiling on heavy cables. Directly facing the door was a sales counter separating the front end of the room from the rest of the space. Beyond that, the workshop was crammed with contraptions that Wolf had no reference point to even start defining.

_Oooh, a lathe. Pretty old school, but I guess there's no need to reinvent the wheel._

And beyond that, there were guns. Lots and lots of guns. Large and small, displayed in racks and scattered across workbenches in various forms of disassembly, there was enough firepower here to arm a small army.

"Ginger gonna be a sec" - the raspy voice came from the right, and Wolf almost drew down on the speaker.

_Shit, I did not fucking sense him. At all. He has to be a Guardian. Either that, or it's time for me to go to the scrap pile - _Ghost sounded positively annoyed.

Mav was sitting in a dark corner of the room, slumped back against the wall in a pose that made him look even more like a derelict. The bottle was cradled in his lap and the gun was nowhere to be seen.

"Didn't see you there" - Wolf tried the nonchalant approach - "Only people I know that can sneak up on me like that are other Hunters, and..."

"Wasn't tryin' ta sneak" - the ragged man shrugged, the calm awareness in his bloodshot grey eyes looked completely out of place on his pallid, time-worn face - "An if ya got questions, ya best be savin' 'em fe Ginger. Ain't mah department."

"Right. People around here got departments."

The would-be Hunter shrugged again, took a swig from the bottle and sat back. The workshop descended into awkward silence as Mav sat there staring at Wolf through half closed eyes and periodically indulging in casual alcoholism. Wolf in turn folded his arms and settled in to wait. He did not have to wait long. The squeal of rusty hinges signaled the arrival of the shops proprietor. The fact that this was indeed Ginger making his way from the back of the shop was unmistakable, even if Wolf has never seen the man in his life. The thick, bushy beard gracing the lower half of the man's face could easily have been placed in the dictionary to illustrate the definition of the word that served as the man's name. His eyebrows were just as vividly orange and just as scraggly, while his scalp was completely bare. He wore a dark, fire-retardant apron over a clean white shirt and had a pair of dark goggles riding high on his forehead. But as he drew closer, the thing that drew Wolf's attention was his hands. Large knuckled and sinewy, they looked like they belonged on a statue or a tree more than they did on a man with funny looking eyebrows. Wolf got the strange feeling that of the man's essence, the whole of his strength was concentrated in those hands.

"Can I help you?" - the man spoke in a calm, deep voice, a voice that seemed to belong more to his hands that to the rest of him.

"You're Ginger?" - Wolf wanted to be sure. He's had enough misunderstandings today to last a lifetime.

"Sure." - Ginger nodded - "And you look like a cat that's just had a bucket of water dumped on its head. Never been to Zed Sector, have you?" - That last part came more as a statement then a question - "What brings you 'round our parts?"

"Name's Wolf" - the Hunter extended his hand and Ginger gripped it in a firm, steady handshake. The part about the cat and the bucket of water sounded mildly insulting, but Ginger seemed like he was actually willing to talk, so Wolf decided to take the diplomatic approach. "Banshee told me about you. Said you were the best Gunsmith in the city and I should talk to you about this idea I've got."

"I hope you've brought more than just an idea" - Ginger rested his knuckles on the sales bench between them - "I don't have time for idle talk, so unless you've got something specific to back this 'idea' of yours up, we're not going to get very far."

"Oh, I got the specifics" - Wolf motioned and Ghost materialized the weapon core directly onto the countertop in front of the gunsmith. "I got the glimmer, too. But before we get down to business, I really - and I mean really - need to get some answers."

Ginger glanced down at the alien artifact now resting between his hands, but made no move to pick it up - "Your dime. Ask away."

"That right there" - Wolf pointed at the man standing in front of him - "The way you said it." - Now that there was someone actually willing to listen, and maybe even give some answers, Wolf felt like he could barely contain the frustration that's been building up ever since he stepped off the shuttle - "The way you said it just now, the way you're acting. The cold indifference, the poorly disguised caution - that's the best I've gotten from everyone here. And I'm not even talking about the open hostility from the motley crew right out front" - he thumbed over his shoulder in the direction of the door. "That's the crazy part - the way being down here feels, the looks I've been getting, I was actually ready and waiting for a confrontation. It's like I'm the alien here."

"Aren't you?" - a matter of fact tone of voice made the words sting even more.

"I'm sorry, what?" - Wolf could hardly believe it.

Ginger sighed, as if finally making up his mind to take on a task he's been avoiding - "You feel being treated like an alien by the people here is unfair. I say - how so?" As he spoke he started slowly gesturing with his hands for emphasis - "They have the same threats hanging over their heads as you do, but unlike you, they do not have an infinite supply of lives."

"So that's it? That's why the punks outside were calling me Zombie and Dead Man? Because I can be brought back? What, you think it's a picnic dying over and over again? What the hell?" - Wolf was starting to lose it - "The only reason I do it, hell the only reason I was brought back, was for them! I was dead already, hard to give a shit when you're pushing up daisies. They are the future, they need to be protected. I may not be easy to kill, but all that means is that I'm stuck like this. I don't have a future. All I got is this war. And the only reason I fight it is for them!"

"And when was the last time you've come down here to tell them that?"

Wolf opened his mouth and then closed it.

The gunsmith nodded - "Living at the top of a literal ivory tower does not endear you to those that live in its shadow, never mind all the good intentions. You've seen what it's like down here. The Wall is only a few hundred yards behind me, and beyond that - well, you've been out there too."

"But that's exactly it" - Wolf was still trying to wrap his head around it - "That's all I do. I go out there and kill the things that are trying to kill them. They've got to understand that."

"Do they?" - Ginger shrugged - "All they see is the slum. That, and the Traveler blocking out the sun, and the Tower looming up above. Feels more like a prison then a place of safety." - he raised his hand to forestall Wolf's protest - "Yes, people know that if it wasn't for the Guardians, the City would long since have been wiped off the face of the planet. But for every one Guardian that goes out there to fight the Darkness, hundreds of normal men and women go out to patrol the Wall. They check the structural integrity, repair the damage and escort refugees from Wild. They fight skirmishes with the Fallen raiding parties. And they die. And they stay dead. Those that do make it back, make it back here." - the gunsmith swept his hands out - "To this."

"OK, so why is 'here' so shitty? What happened?"

"The Collapse happened. This City was built while the rest of the human civilization was burning down around our ancestors ears. Zed Sector was the primary intake for new arrivals. Most of the buildings here are actually the original temporary shelters built to house the thousands arriving daily." - Ginger's mouth twitched into a sad smile, almost obscured by his beard - "You could say this place is a museum of sorts."

_So that's why I'm having such a hard time scanning around here. - _Ghost was none too pleased_ - Should have realized it. The materials they used back then provided universal rad-shielding - it was code._

"But that was hundreds of years ago!" - Wolf shook his head in disbelief - "Why is it still like this?"

"How would it be any different?" - the gunsmith's tone was neutral, but Wolf got the impression that this is how he talked to little children whenever he had to explain the realities of the grownup world to them - "Resources were scarce back then, and they have not become any more abundant since. Everything went towards building up the City defenses and the infrastructure, and towards fighting the aliens. And that includes the most precious resource of all - talent. Anyone and everyone that had useful skill was assigned to more essential areas, and given appropriate accommodations. Still like that now" - Ginger cocked his head to the left - "go down east four blocks and you'll see a testing site. Anyone can walk in there and take an aptitude test. Place high enough, and that's your ticket out of here. Only other way out of here is the Militia."

_Yeah, that's pretty fucked up. Does explain the looks._

Wolf far from satisfied - "But it doesn't explain why no-one does anything about this..."

"Ya still don't get it, boy" - the raspy voice from the corner was an unwelcome reminder that Mav was still sober enough to hear the entire conversation - "Ain't 'bout doin' sumthin' all of a sudd'n. 'S about givin' a fuck in the first place."

Wolf turned around and fixed the drunk with a nasty stare - "And you're saying I don't."

The gray man made a sound half way between a chuckle and a wet cough - "None of ya do. All ya care 'bout is yer kill counts, yer cruicible wins and yer gear. Walk the Tower, all ya hear talk of is what new toy them vendors is selling."

"So you were a Guardian." - Wolf wasn't sure whether confirming his earlier suspicion was a good thing.

"Naw boy, I wasn't no Guardian." - the man sat forward in his chair - "I was jus like you - I was a killer. A killer of monsters, yeah. But still a killer. An that don't make no Guardian."

"Then what does?"

"Givin' a fuck. A Guardian is sppose' ta guard his people. It's in the name. An' that mean from everythin', not jus' the monsters. Until ya wrap yer noggin 'round that, ya ain't never gonna understand why everybody 'round here givin' you the stank eye." - Mav stifled another cough and drowned it out with a swig from his bottle.

Wolf turned to look at Ginger, only to see the bald gunsmith looking back at him impassively - "Not what you expected?"

"Yeah, well" - Wolf shook his head, but that failed to render any ready answers - "none of this was. I got some thinking to do." He nodded to Ginger and headed for the door. Mav was already sitting back in his corner, eyes closed, but Wolf nodded to the old Guardian - or was it ex-Guardian - anyway.

"What about your this?" - the gunsmith's voice caught the hunter right before he reached the door. Wolf glanced back to see Ginger holding the forgotten weapon core in his hands.

"Oh, damn" - Wolf scratched his head - "Yeah, I got his idea..."  
>"I know all about it. Banshee forwarded me the plans."<p>

"He...did? Huh."

"Yes, he did. Not a bad idea. Workable" - Ginger was examining the alien mechanism, slowly turning it over in his hands - "Only one problem."

"Of course there is" - Wolf said under his breath, but if Ginger heard, he gave no sign.

"The original design of the weapon uses shrapnel canisters for ammunition. The mag-rails provide rapid acceleration and the resulting friction heats the metal shards to near melting, kind of like a gauss-gun-meets-twelve-gauge setup" - the gunsmith shook his head - "Simple and effective, but only at close range against lightly armored targets. In order to convert this into a more versatile weapon that you have in mind...well, let's just say the all the tolerances will need to be tighter and the magnetic coils will have to fire far more rapidly to get you the muzzle velocity you need. That means overheating. A lot of it. So much in fact, that any material that I have at my disposal would start to melt after a few bursts."

"So...no dice?" - Wolf wasn't sure if he should feel disappointed at the news, or if this was just the proper end of a crazy goose chase.

"That depends" - Ginger set the gun core down on the sales bench.

"On?"

"How much are you willing to risk to see this done" - the gunsmith looked at Wolf, as if examining him the same way he was examining the alien artifact a few seconds ago - "You see, during the height of the Golden Age they developed just such a gun. Or rather, a series of guns, with a variety of designs and applications. In order to deal with the overheating problem they came up with a number of interesting solutions, none of which I would be able to duplicate today. But" - Ginger raised a gnarled finger in the air - "I know of a place they used to manufacture the barrel modules."

Wolf almost laughed out loud - "Let me guess. This is probably the most dangerous, Light-forsaken corner of the system."

"Pretty much, though it's right here on Earth" - Ginger nodded - "The coordinates are thirty seven degrees North, hundred sixteen degrees West, or thereabouts. The Fallen have probably picked the place clean by now, but I used to know a fellow mechanic that swore up and down about a hidden bunker that only he had the code to."

_That's western North America. Mountain prairie if my maps are correct._

Wolf felt like the air in the room suddenly became heavy enough to cut - "And you wouldn't happen to have this code, would you?"

"NTS51S4" - Ginger said it in such a matter of fact tone, it almost felt like an anti-climax - "There's a catch though."

"Of course."

"It can only be accessed by a Human."

"A Human as in no aliens, or a Human as in no Exos or Awoken?"

Ginger nodded - "No Awoken, no Exo, and most certainly no alien."

_Weird. Though I guess there were no Awoken back then, and Exo were supposed to be nothing more than robotic servants. So if you're guarding against alien presence, you kind of catch everything not exactly human in the net as well._

"And this mechanic you used to know told you this." - Wolf was trying to figure out what kind of game the gunsmith was playing.

Instead of replying, Ginger reached inside his apron, pulled out a small, shiny object and tossed it to Wolf. It glinted in the light of the projectors before slapping into the palm of Wolf's outstretched hand.

"A key" - it had a strange golden sheen and felt heavier than it had any business being.

_Solid gold. One hell of a key._

"A final gift from a dying man" - Wolf was surprised to hear Ginger's voice crack.

"And you're giving this to me, all so I can get a new gun?"

"No, I'm giving you this because whatever's in that bunker is possibly one of the last intact pieces of the inheritance that our ancestors left us. Hell, it may even help with the war. Or it may not" - Ginger was looking at Wolf with heavy, unblinking intensity that made the young man more than a little uncomfortable - "What matters is that we owe it to ourselves, to the people of the City to find out. And yes, you will also get a new gun out of this."

"Yeah, thanks. So why me?" - Wolf smirked - "Can't be my winning personality."

"You can probably tell we don't place much stock in Guardians around here. But Banshee says you're different."

_Oh, shit. That walking rust-bucket._

"Wait, so Banshee had this whole thing planned out from the word go?" - Wolf couldn't believe it - "He sent me down here so you could get me to go on this crazy scavenger hunt for you? I knew the whole 'I'm too busy' thing was bullshit."

"The gun schematics are real. The facility that key unlocks did indeed manufacture the parts necessary to assemble it, amongst many other marvels of the Golden Age. At least, so far as I know" - Ginger picked up the gun core - "So what's it gonna be? You want this back?"

This time Wolf did laugh out loud - "Keep it. This gun better be the bees knees."

He turned and opened the door...and stopped in his tracks. The world outside was bathed in the most stunning combination of amber and crimson he had ever seen. The metal fencing of the chicken coop glinted golden in the evening sun while the lengthening shadows took on the look of purple velvet draped over the terra-cotta colored pavement of the street. Even the air smelled cleaner and fresher than it did when he first got here.

"Qute a sight, innit?" - Mav's broken voice snapped him out of the trance - "Gets like this almost every sunset an' sunrise. Only times sun can get 'round that busted up ball blockin' out the sky. Guess that's one o' them there ironies."

"Yeah. Guess so" - Wolf did not turn around - "I'll see you when I get back."

With that he closed the door behind him and turned his steps towards the Wall. Bathed in the dying light of the day Zed Sector became a surreal place where beauty and decay merged to create a feeling somewhere between loss and hope. It was strange, almost painful, but Wolf found that it also felt right somehow.

"Hey, Ghost."

_Yes?_

"You ready for an adventure?"

_Well, you know me. Always up for some nail biting excitement. You know this is probably a setup, right?_

"Yeah, but for whom? And what kind?" - Wolf found himself smiling and nodding to the passersby's as he walked. They smiled and nodded back in acknowledgment.

_Maybe we could have pressed Ginger for more info?_

"Nah. I think he gave us all he was willing to give. Pushing for more would have lead to a fight, and you can't ask the dead too many questions."

_Good point. So I guess now it's just 'Proceed with Caution'?_

"Yup. One thing though, before we head out - patch me through to Russo."

_Good call. Opening the channel now._

As Wolf made his way towards the Wall, the golden-crimson glow of the sunset faded to deep lavender and charcoal grey of twilight and the creeping shadows reclaimed the streets of the City with the speed and urgency of a jealous lover. Wolf though that Mav would call this another one of them there ironies.

The workshop was silent after Wolf had closed the door on his way out. Ginger kept turning the Fallen gun core in his hands as he kept going over the conversation in his head. After a few minutes he turend to Mav - "So? What do you think?"

"He dinna run, an' he dinna lash out. Thas somethin', I guess" - the old Hunter took another swig - "Mayhap Banshee's right 'bout 'im an' the rest of that crew" - Mav shook his head and choked down some laughter - "Midnight Runners, huh? Shit, what a name. We ever that silly?"

"Not silly. Idealistic" - Ginger walked over to one of the many storage racks lining the back of the room and set the core down on a shelf - "For all our sakes, I hope that idealism holds."

"I'll drink ta that" - Mav raised his bottle and then finished it in one long, gulping pull.


	4. Chapter 4 - Dancing with the Devil

div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"The tunnel was dank and dim, and it smelled of moss and faintly of rotting garbage. The jagged glowing crystals that always littered the caves dug by the Hive cast off a steady green glow - plenty of light to see by. Drez was glad she didn't need to summon her ghost to provide additional illumination. That function might have been one of its most useful features, but she would much rather not have to see the thing at all. She made her way along the passage, Thorn resting heavily against her shoulder. It was a trick she'd picked up on the Reef. When at the ready, the Queen's Guard would cradle the barrels of their hand cannons against the slope of their necks. She asked why, and they had laughed and challenged her to a test of speed and skill - for the usual stakes. The rules were simple: her and this Centurion named Besera would face off at fifteen meters, their revolvers unholstered, in the resting position. For Drez, that meant her gun was in her right hand, pointing down, level with her thigh. Besera was also holding hers in her right, but pointing almost straight back as it rested against her collar bone. Only one bullet in each cylinder, and that one - a stun round. And so they faced each other, on one of the many spindly catwalks that stitch all through the Reef like some bizarre spider web. Besera's entire patrol unit had gathered to watch, but Drez had no fear of a double-cross: on the Reef, a contest between two women was a matter of honor. After damn near three minutes of motionless tension, it became apparent Besera was not going to be the first to move. It was clear she was trying to make her point, and so Drez moved to take full advantage of her opponents overconfidence. She'd pulled her barrel up quick, deciding to shoot from the hip and certain of hitting at that range... and the next thing she could remember, she was laying on her back, gasping for air, feeling like she'd been punched in the chest by an Ogre. Later, after Besera had finished collecting her winnings - Drez felt herself flush at the memory - they'd shared a drink, and Besera explained. The explanation was about as simple as could be: it's faster to pull down then to pull up. And resting the gun against your shoulder or your neck makes sure the wrist does not tense up and become unresponsive. The look on her face must have made quite a sight, because Besera started laughing, and after a few seconds Drez was laughing right along with her. When they were able to catch their breaths, the Centurion told her that some in her unit thought that Drez had asked such a simple question on purpose - because she liked having her 'winnings collected'. Drez had responded that Besera could 'collect' from her anytime, and the rest of the night was spent doing just that./div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;" Her Ghost sent up a silent proximity alert, and reluctantly she dismissed the memories from her mind. The months she'd spent at the Reef were precious to her - it was the only time since her revival she'd felt accepted and at home. But now was not the time to dwell on the past, however pleasant. According the readouts, the target area was less than eighty feet dead ahead. The cave was silent, save for the slow drip of condensation, her boots making no sound on the hard rock under her feet. As she moved forward, the passage ahead began to open up, and in a few dozen steps she found herself standing on a ledge, overlooking a large domed chamber. The view was no longer new or strange to her, but still she felt her heart beat faster and her breath catch in her throat. So she made herself stand there and slowly take it all in. The walls of the chamber were supported by massive pillars, cast in the same dark metal the Hive used in almost every aspect of their construction. In between the pillars, three gateways were cut into the walls, open mouths yawning into darkness. Chains tipped what looked like double-ended meat hooks dangled from the ceiling like vines, while at the center of the room burned an emerald-green pyre. The ghostly flame danced above a stone and metal altar like some perverse joke, devoid of any warmth or comfort and only seeming to give the shadows in the room more weight. And there, around the flame, knelt three Acolytes. Heads bowed, arms raised in supplication, completely engrossed in their worship.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;" Drez clenched her teeth and concentrated on breathing - slow and steady, the measured, deliberate intake of breath causing her mind to settle. The Acolytes were no threat. She could have taken them unarmed if she needed to. So then why the hell was she so...unnerved? No. Not unnerved. Afraid. She hated that she had actually lied to herself about her own reaction, if only for a moment. And so she forced herself to keep standing there, trying to figure out - Why? Why the hell did she feel this...fear? No, that wasn't right ether. Dread. Yes, dread and something else. Awe. That's it. Every time she saw one of the Tomb Ships make it's slow and deliberate way across the Lunar skyline, every time she entered a Hive Shrine or a breeding chamber - this strange cocktail of dread and awe would almost overwhelm her. The more she stood there, the more she started to realize that this was the reason why she always drew the Lunar patrol routs, to the relief of her clan-mates. Why she always took on Hive bounties, and almost always alone. The need to confront her dread, to face it and defeat it. And yet, no matter how many Thralls and Acolytes she killed, no matter how many Knights and Wizards she sent screaming back to the Darkness that spawned them, the dread remained...div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;" As if somehow draw to her inner struggle, one of the Acolytes raised its head and turned its three beady little eyes to her - the time for thinking was over. Drez leveled the Thorn and fired, placing her shot in the center of the scull-like mask that served the creature as a face. The thing's head shattered and half a second later the rest of its body disintegrated is a whirlwind of burning skin and rags. She had always wondered why the creatures of the Hive left no bodies behind when they died, but her research had proved completely fruitless. The two remaining Acolytes scrambled to their feet, their shrill screams echoing across the domed chamber. With precision borne out of repetition she pulled the trigger and the second creature went up in flames. Even as she brought her weapon to bear on the third one, she had to admit that this was another reason why she kept going down into the Hive time and time again. The sweet rush of adrenalin was the best medicine for doubt and fear. It drowned out the restless noise of her own mind even better then Russo's moonshine - though that turned out to be a close second. She fired again, but this time the Acolyte threw itself to the side and the shot caught it in the shoulder. It staggered back against the altar, reeling but upright. Drez choked down her own annoyance, re-acquired and shot. The creature was gone before it even managed to regain its footing. The annoyance remained. Partly because the skirmish ended so soon, hardly enough of a challenge to really get her going. She could already feel the invasive tendrils of her own doubts creeping back in. But most of her frustration and annoyance was focused on Thorn.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;" Many stories - some obviously overblown, others much less so - surrounded the jagged hand cannon. Once a weapon of Light, it was corrupted by its own master - a legendary warlock named Dredgen Yor - as he fell from grace. It was hard to find any accurate information regarding the disgraced Guardian or his weapon, but once she managed to cut through the cautionary bullshit all the sources agreed: Thorn was a weapon of great power and reach. It was somehow able to tap into the very Darkness of the Hive, planting it like a seed inside its victims with every shot. Those who survived the initial wound were burned from within, their bodies consumed by the malevolent energy of the gun. Supposedly, it had only one equal: the Last Word. Another hand cannon, it was the weapon that brought about Dredgen's death in a final showdown between him and some renegade hunter named Shin Malphur. All very dramatic and appropriately dark, as all such stories tended to be. But Drez felt sure the tales of Thorn's destructive capabilities held at least some grain of truth. She was yet to find it.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;" This patrol run was supposed to have been all about getting to know her new weapon and learning its secrets. She even figured that using it against the very source of its corruption would gain her additional insight into the inner workings of this legendary gun. And there was no denying that it was a very well crafted weapon. It's range and accuracy were second to none, and though it's recoil almost tore her wrist on the first shot, she was learning how to compensate for it. All in all, the weapon handled well, in spite of its unwieldy appearance. But aside from that, there was nothing particularly special about it. Oh sure, it looked ominous enough, but Drez was not trying to scare her enemies to death. When all was said and done, it hardly seemed worth the trouble Russo and his team had to go through in order to get it and make it usable.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;" Personal disappointment aside, she still had a job to do. Stepping off of the ledge, she floated down to the chamber floor. Facing the altar she held out her hand and, feeling like a cheap street-corner magician, summoned her ghost. The ugly thing appeared hovering half a foot above her upturned palm and began to run a scan of the immediate area. The entire procedure was fairly routine. Drez hardly had enough time to wonder what, if anything, ever came from the hundreds of such scans that she and all the other Guardians on patrol gathered daily, before she received the notification from her ghost that the scan data was safely transmitted up to the 'Damsel' and from there, to the Tower. She watched her marks get logged upon transfer completion and, banishing her ghost, walked from the chamber. She chose the doorway at random, hoping for a fight and confident in her ability to come out on top.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;" She found herself in yet another dark, snaking tunnel - barely wide enough for her to walk without turning sideways. She wondered what possible use could the Hive have for such a narrow passage, but no answer seemed to be forthcoming, so she just readied Thorn and kept walking. The further she went, the darker it became - even the hateful but familiar sickly-green light grew scarce. She was about to reluctantly call up her ghost to provide more illumination when she saw a hint of light filtering up through the darkness ahead. Drez moved forward, checking her motion sensor overlay, painfully aware that in a passage as tight as this there was hardly any room to maneuver or take cover. A dozen steps down she realized something else - this new light was wrong. It was warm, the comforting orange-amber glow of a campfire, and about as out of place in this hell-hole as any one thing could possibly be. A few dozen more steps and she saw a bend in the tunnel ahead. The light was coming from just beyond it. The motion tracker was still coming up nill, which only served to put her more on edge. Slowly, Drez cocked back the hammer on Thorn and rounded the corner.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;" It wasn't a campfire, but it was close. A portable thermal lantern sat on a rocky outcrop, casting it's welcoming light across a large alcove directly beyond the tunnel exit. Beside is sat a man. Leaning forward to warm his hands over the lantern, he looked for all the world like a traveler taking a break from a long trek. The entire scene was so surreal, so unexpected, that Drez just stood there, unable to decide what to do next.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "You know, you're welcome to have a seat." - the man looked up slowly, the lanterns light carving deep shadows across his well worn, weather beaten face. It may have been the acoustics of the chamber they were in, but the baritone of his voice seemed to flow across the rocks around them like molasses. But his eyes... impossibly dark and tinged with a vague but almost painful sadness, they were like a pair of gun barrels pointing at her from the shadows. She gripped her hand cannon tight enough to feel the ridges of its handle digging in through the leather of her gloves, but still felt like she was the one outgunned.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;" Drez shook her head, all her instincts screaming caution, and kept Thorn raised and pointing at the strangers head. The man shrugged and went back to warming his hands. The moment he took his eyes off her, she felt like she could breathe again.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Suit yourself" - once again, his voice filled the alcove - "Just call myself being neighborly."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Didn't look to find any neighbors down here" - not yet ready to pull the trigger on an apparently unarmed man, she slowly approached.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "And what exactly did you look to find down here, missy?" - she thought she heard a note of humor in his voice.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Same thing anyone looks for in the Hive - monsters" - as she got closer, she saw that the far end of the alcove opened up into what appeared to be a massive chamber - the darkness beyond was dotted with green specks of light. "And don't call me 'missy'. Name's Drez."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "That's an interesting name" - the man sat back, and for the first time she was able to get a good look at him. Even sitting down, it was clear that he was not a small man. The grey in his hair and the lines on his face made him look over forty, but the way he moved and carried himself hinted at a body of someone far younger. Or that of a Guardian. In fact, his long, dusty trench coat could have belonged to a Warlock.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Interesting or not, I gave you mine." - she stopped a few feet from where he sat, the steady light of the lantern between them - "And that means you have me at a disadvantage."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"The man gave a low chuckle, the smile taking some of the weight from his eyes - "True enough, and I'd hate to be ill mannered with a lady. You can call me... you can call me Roy."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Really. Best you could come up with?"div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"The smile was gone as if it was never there - "You may dislike my name as you please, but do not call me a liar, unless you're willing to back that claim up with blood."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"Drez felt relief at the open hostility in his words. She knew how to handle hostility - "Big words form an unarmed man."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"He shrugged - "You ain't much better off. That may be a fearsome weapon in your hands, but it's clear you've got no clue as to it's true function."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"She was startled to hear his word echo her own thoughts so closely - "And what would you know about that?"div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Look, if we're going to have a conversation, you need to have a seat - I'm getting damn tired of craning my neck." - if he was at all concerned about the gun trained at the center of his forehead, he showed no sign.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"Suddenly she felt very foolish, standing there, pointing a gun at an unarmed man. She gave him a half-shrug and sat on a low rock outcropping, resting Thorn in her in her lap. The man nodded, clearly satisfied and reached inside his coat.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "What the fuck?" - she flashed the barrel of her gun back up, training it on his chest.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"The man raised his hand - "Easy, now." - Slowly, he drew out a pouch and a small sheaf of paper - "Jumpy, ain't ya? Just some smokes. You want some?"div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "No" - Drez was slow to lower Thorn - "No. You go ahead."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"He nodded and started rolling - "So you had some questions, right?"div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"She eased her gun back down - "You seem to know something about my weapon."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Oh, that ain't just any ole weapon" - he licked the paper, gave it a final roll and lifting the thermal lantern, lit the cigarette on its glowing coils - "And that means it takes more than just any ole fighter to sling it."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "And you think I'm not good enough?" - she was willing to let the him guide the conversation for now. Once he said all he had to say, she had a few real questions she was going to get some answers to.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Never said that" - the man took a long, deep drag and slowly exhaled the lavender colored smoke through his nostrils - "Just seems like you're having some trouble with it, is all."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"Drez smirked - "And you just happen to know some special technique to unlock it's secret potential, huh?"div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"The man laughed, the velvet of his voice unrolling across the alcove - "Darlin', technique is just a crutch for the uninspired. All you really need is desire and intent."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Desire and intent?" - she shook her head - "You lost me."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"The stranger took another drag - "What are you?"div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Excuse me?"div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "It's a simple enough question" - he exhaled again, the smoke starting to form a halo around his face.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"She figured she might as well play along - "An Awoken."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "No, that's what you were born as. What are you now?"div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "A Guardian, then."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Seems like." - he nodded - "And what are you doing down here?"div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Like I told you - hunting the Hive."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"He nodded again - "That's your problem, right there."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "What the hell else am I supposed to be doing here?" - she said, and wondered - where was he going with this?div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "What is the purpose of prey?" - his eyes were the only thing she could see now through the haze of cigarette smoke hanging in the air between them.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "So we're playing guessing games now?"div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Indulge me."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"Fine - "To be hunted."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Wrong. It's to be consumed" - the words seemed to hover in the air like the smoke - "And that, in your hands, that ain't a hunters weapon. It's a Devourers weapon. That's the intent you're missing."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "You're not very good at this explanation thing" - in spite of her frustration, she was intrigued.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "See, in the normal order of things, prey is born to be prey. That is its purpose in the grand scheme - to feed the hunter." - he took another drag, and the glowing ember of his cigarette lit up the swirling haze hanging over their heads - "Your prey, on the other hand, well, it wasn't born to be prey. Hell, it was born to hunt you. But you, you have to change that." - his voice pitched deeper, vibrating down her spine and settling in her bones.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Isn't that what I do?" - her own words felt dull and muffled in her ears, as if the smoke was burning them out of the air.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "No. You just kill. That ain't good enough. A killer may have many reasons for her purpose. A Devourer only has one - to consume. Killing simply destroys your enemy. By consuming, you alter the very destiny of your prey. Whatever it was prior to meeting you, it don't matter no more. You make it your food. You make it so that being devoured by you was the only reason for it existing in the first place. And until you master this intent, until you truly feel the desire to make that intent - reality, you ain't never gonna master that weapon."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"Drez felt the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end - "Who the fuck are you?"div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;" A mindless scream of a Thrall tore across the alcove, coming from the tunnel exit behind her. She spun around, pointing her gun at the opening. It stood black and empty, but she could her the scrabble of talons on floor coming through. The motion tracker overlay was flashing angry red in that direction, and in the back of her head, her ghost was screaming at her to snap out of it. Sounded like it's been screaming for a while.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "You haven't answered my fucking question" - she looked back at the stranger, and saw - nothing. The alcove was empty, save for her. Even the thermal lantern with its warm and friendly light was gone. Only the smoke remained, coiling under the low ceiling like some grey ethereal serpent.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Shit" - having a fight here was out of the question. She tossed a vortex grenade at the opening, just as the first Thrall appeared out of the darkness. The micro-singularity burst into existence, trapping the creature in its crushing field and buying her a few precious seconds. She turned and ran through the alcove and out into the chamber beyond. It was dark and vast, the green altar flames dotting the distance. Then some of the lights moved, and she realized that half of the green glowing orbs in her field of vision were the eyes of Knights and Acolytes converging on her position. Did they just get here, finally drawn to the trail of destruction that she'd left behind on this patrol? Or where they waiting here the whole time, like a noose on a trap ready to slip tight around her neck? Was the entire conversation with the stranger back there just a hallucination, a mental catch-plate that sprung the trap now closing in around her? The frantic red strobe of the motion tracker told her she had no more time for questions. They were coming in from all sides - she had to find a better place to make her stand.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;" The cavern echoed with a multitude of rabid, inhuman screams, and out of the darkness came the Knights, towering over ten feet tall and grasping their massive cleaver blades in bone-armored fists. The champions of the Hive and, more often than not it's chosen executioners. Launching herself into the air, she gathered the energy of the Void that had been pooling within her and unleashed her Nova Bomb. The massive explosion lit up the chamber floor in a surreal cascade of black light, tearing the Knights apart in a torrent of dark energy and giving her the space she needed to maneuver. Dearly bought: the power she expended would take time to recharge - she had to make it count. Even as she touched back down the air around her strobed with the violet streaks of shredder bolts, signaling the presence of Acolytes - weak when isolated, deadly in number. A shriek from behind was followed by searing pain: the Thralls from the tunnel had caught up. Drez spun around and slammed her palm into the chest of the creature had that just tore her left side open. It screamed, dissolving in the almost-beautiful glow of void-light and she quickly absorbed it's scattered essence, repairing some of the damage it had done. Then, desperately hoping that her eyes did not deceive her and the ledge that she saw in the unreal light of her Nova Bomb was indeed there, she pushed off and blinked. The thrill and the terror of re-materializing in mid air never really went away and if she was to be honest with herself, she loved the feeling. Even now, with the fear and the pain and the joy and the glory of fighting for her life she savored it. Still, relief flooded her chest when her legs found the perch she was aiming for. She stumbled against the uneven cavern wall and crouched on the narrow precipice. Shredder bolts scorched the rock around her, and from below - more screams as the Thralls began to climb. She saw how many there had gathered below and cursed. Like ants, they quickly formed a line along the rough surface. She threw another vortex grenade, the torrent of angry gravity peeling the pale reavers off the rock, then turned on the Acolytes. The triple green dots of their eyes made for perfect targets. She fired with practiced precision: one shot - one kill, her shields absorbing the occasional bolt that found its way home. But in the back of her mind, the surreal conversation from the alcove persisted: you're doing it wrong. She shook her head trying to clear the wayward thoughts. She was doing well, she was making space, and then...div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;" Out of the darkness rose a Witch, and her stomach twisted in a knot. Wrapped in rotting rags, jagged bones and vicious power, Witches sowed pain and misery wherever they appeared and fed on the terror that was their harvest. The hag lifted her clawed hand and Drez knew what came next. She had nowhere to go, no way to escape the power of this thing. Drez pointed Thorn at the Witch, well aware it's shields were far too strong for the gesture to matter. And still the voice in her head kept on - she was about to face worse-than-death, and all because she lacked the desire.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;" No. She knew right then that wasn't it. It's not that she lacked the desire. She was just afraid of it. Afraid to acknowledge her own need. Her need to make her enemy suffer and feel the fear that she'd felt. Afraid to release that part of her she kept caged up like some rabid dog. The part that only woke up when she was hunting down the creatures that wanted to kill her in turn. Creatures that had already killed her, back when it was Summer. The part of her that felt the thrill of satisfaction with every bone jarring recoil of her hand cannon. The part that understood the truth: she was the hunter. And they, the hunted.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"Not the other way around.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"She was the Predator.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"They - her prey.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"Their destiny was to be devoured.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"By her.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"She pulled the trigger.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;" An acid-green bolt shot from the gun, driving through the hag's shield into its chest and spreading. Like a cascade of corruption, a fluorescent emerald wash enveloped the creature as it screamed, it's shields slowly peeling back from the point of impact. Drez fired again and the shields protecting the Witch shattered completely. The thing tried to flee back into the dark, trailing bits rotting of flesh and bone but the third shot ruptured it's scull like a malignant tumor. For a moment all Drez could do was stand there. She saw it. She felt it. In its last moments the Witch was afraid. Afraid of her. She wanted - no, she needed to feel that again.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;" Looking down, she saw the Thralls clambering up the wall once again. Slowly, she lowered Thorn and took aim. There was no need to hurry - her prey was coming to her. Again she pulled the trigger, and again a green bolt of death and decay lanced out. It threaded through the Thralls like a needle through rotten leather, ripping them open from the inside out. Two more shots and the cavern floor below her was clear. The Thralls were gone. But she didn't want them to be gone. She wanted more. She was still hungry.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;" Drez spotted movement out in the murky darkness deeper into the chamber. She stepped off the ledge and floated down, reloading in the air. A sporadic flight of shredder bolts flared through he air around her, a couple glancing off her shield, but she paid them no mind. They were nothing more than a desperate, futile gesture of a doomed herd. Touching down, she began walking forward into the shadows. The Acolytes appeared to be trying to regroup. Good. Three of the creatures stepped around the stone pillars they were using for cover and took aim, but three pulls of her trigger and they were nothing more than ash on the stale breeze. Hardly a challenge. She needed more. The massive cavern echoed with more soulless shrieks and a small horde of Thralls rushed her from a side tunnel. Her heart skipped a beat with anticipation. She liked her lips and raised Thorn slowly and deliberately, savoring each moment. She let them get just close enough for the excitement to build until she couldn't take it anymore, and right when the lead monster raised its claws to tear at her throat she fired. And then it were her claws, her green talons that tore through the would-be hunters. Thorn even sounded different, and it's newfound voice drowned out the screams of her prey until there were none left. Reloading as she walked, Drez moved on, searching. She wanted stronger prey. She needed a greater challenge. And like some ancient and capricious god, the Hive heard her need and gave it's answer.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;" It was preceded by a swarm of Thralls, dashing around its massive legs like a pack of attack dogs. She was not interested in wasting her time on the foot-soldiers and used a vortex grenade to thin the herd. Her intended prey stepped into the sickly green light of the altar flames and like a true Champion of the Hive raised its cleaver blade in bizarre parody of a knightly challenge. She did not bother responding - a predator did not answer her prey. Though this was no ordinary prey. Unlike the Knights she'd atomized earlier, this one was sheathed in a crackling energy field and its massive armor was pitted with age and anointed with dark oils and black blood. It charged silently, it's blade sweeping in a wide arc down at her neck. Drez leaped back, firing Thorn in midair. The venom-bolts tore at the Knights shield and the now-familiar and welcome green surge of decay ran across the massive warriors armor. But it didn't flinch, and with speed that belied its massive frame caught her on the backswing. Her shields absorbed some of the impact, but her body folded almost double as the reverse edge of the cleaver slammed into her waist and she tasted blood. She managed to stay on her feet, but the blade was coming down again - leading with the sharp edge this time. Drez bared her teeth at her prey and blinked - fifteen feet straight up. She re-materialized in the darkness above and watched the Knight slice through the spot she was standing less than half a second prior. Once again she called on her energy reserves and launched a Nova Bomb straight down on the Knights head, but the creature - as if guided by some invisible hand - jumped back. The dark light of the reality-tearing explosion destroyed the last of its shield and she watched as some of its armor disintegrated, but it did not fall. Gravity was pulling her back down. As she leveled Thorn the Knight raised its head and on its scull-like face she saw - not fear, but an acknowledgment. A recognition of a fellow hunter. And an invitation: let's see whose hunger is stronger. She let Thorn make her reply and all the while thought - this is as it should be! No fear, no doubt, just her, her prey and the perfect dance of death. She was the deathbringer, the darkhunter. She had no equal.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;" She landed firing, until she heard Thorn's hammer striking an empty cylinder. The Knight towered no more than ten feet in front of her, its pale carapace scarred and shredded by the corruption pulsing off of it in waves. Its left arm was missing and the light in one of its three eyes had gone out, but it raised its massive blade and charged. There was not time to reload, but it didn't matter. Drez lunged forward, palm thrust forward and the energy of the Void rushing over her skin. The swinging blade caught the light of the altar flames and she thought - 'Come. You fought well, but now it's time. I am the hunter, and I'm still hungry'.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;" Something slammed into the Knight from the side and sent it staggering, it's blade sailing wide. Drez went sprawling across the torn-up flagstones, screaming with fury at being robbed of her kill. She scrambled up in time to see the Knight turn - only to be blown apart by the thunder of a point blank twelve-gauge. The air surged, and a shining dome of blue light cut her off from the seething darkness of the Hive. The hunger was gone, and suddenly she could feel the gnawing pain of every bruise and cut and burn she had forgotten in the thrill of the hunt. With a moan, her knees buckled and she would have crashed to the floor if not for a steel-clad arm catching her across the chest.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Careful." - the voice was strong and bright - "Hurtful said you were kinda reckless, but damn. Don't know if that was brave or stupid, but I'm glad I got here when I did. You alright?"div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;" It took her a moment to regain her footing, and all the while she could feel the strength of the figure supporting her like some warm iron pillar. Drez righted herself with effort, feeling like a child being helped to stand but too weak to refuse the help. She looked at the - interloper? rescuer? - and saw a tall figure in the gun-metal grey armor of a Titan, all heavy plating and ammo packs. But even with the helmet concealing the face, there was no hiding the long legs or the curves underneath.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "You're a..." - Drez spoke without thinking, and was left fumbling for the words.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"The newcomer laughed - "A girl? With girl parts and everything? Yeah, last time I checked. We girl Titans are a rare breed, though. You should feel lucky to meet one in the wild."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"Drez shook her head, thankful for the helmet to hide her embarrassment - "No, I mean..." - it was hard to think straight. Her thoughts felt jumbled and cumbersome like she was just coming off of a days-long drinking binge - "I mean you look good..." - Shit.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Oooh, compliments" - at least she wasn't getting angry - "I like compliments. I guess that means I should rescue damsels in distress more often. Speaking of rescues, my ward is not going to hold forever, and if we don't get a move on we're both going to need another rescue to get us out of here. You good enough to move?"div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Yeah" - moving hurt, in more ways than Drez could ever remember hurting, but... - "What 's your name?"div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Bella. I'm new. Russo sent me to get you when you wouldn't answer your comm. Don't know what it's all about, but seems pretty important - the entire clan is getting called up" - the Titan's voice was almost drowned out by the sound of shredder bolts impacting the ward like hail on a tin roof - "And looks like we've overstayed our welcome. We're not gonna be able to trans-mat through all that rock, but the passage I used to reach you should take us close enough to the surface. Ready?"div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Yeah" - Drez felt anything but. She gathered herself for the mad dash through the dark, biting her lip against the pain - but then Bella gripped her up by the waist and leaped. The moment they cleared the ward she heard the Titan's jump-pack thrusters kick in, quickly taking them out of the reach of the massing Acolytes below. All she could do was hold on. They sailed through the darkness for what seemed like forever, until Drez saw a wall appear abruptly out of the gloom ahead. She was sure they were going to crash, but Bella cut the thrusters at the last moment and they landed on a narrow strip of rock jutting out in front of a small tunnel entrance. Drez steadied herself against the wall as distant shrieks echoed through the chamber.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Fucking creepy bastards." - Bella glanced over her shoulder - "I'll take the Cabal or the Fallen over the Hive any day. Come on." - she turned and moved into the tunnel, her ghost materializing over her left shoulder to light the way.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"Drez followed, limping - "I know what you mean. I've been thinking about that. Like, why does fighting them feel so different?" Her words still felt clumsy and unclear, so she tried to clarify - "I mean, a Captain will kill you just as dead as a Knight, and the Cabal are actually the most difficult enemies we face. And all that creepy armor - we're not kids, that shouldn't be enough to freak us out."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "I don't think it's the armor that brings the creep factor" - Bella's voice stayed strong and steady, even though the passage was starting to slant upward at a pretty steep angle - "It's that with the Fallen and the Cabal, you know what they want. Resources, land, whatever. Same thing we need. Yeah, they'll kill us just as fast as we'll kill them, but at least I get them. And the Vex, well, they're killer robots. What the hell can you expect form killer robots, right?" - she laughed, and Drez laughed along with her. It felt good to laugh, better to laugh with someone. "But the Hive" - suddenly Bella was no longer laughing - "They clearly got some sort of society - language, religion, what have you. So they're not mindless. But they don't seem to give a fuck about resources or land. Or anything else for that matter. All they care about is killing. Or maybe death is the only resource they care about. Like I said - creepy fucking bastards."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Yeah" - the fact that Bella - virtually a complete stranger - could so simply explain the fear that's been tormenting Drez for months was both exciting and somewhat scary. But she was so worn out and in pain that she couldn't really engage in the conversation, and instead all she could manage was - "I think you're right."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"Bella didn't seem to mind - "Oh, I'm right alight, but that's not what makes them creepy - at least no to me." - she shrugged - "For me, the creepy part is that kind of single-minded hunger - you fight it long enough, you're bound to become just like them. Nothing left in you but the hate and the violence. That's what scares me - I don't want to get like that."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;" Drez stopped dead in her tracks, a cold finger of dread tracing her spine. She felt the hunger inside, coiled and for now - content. She remembered the sweet release of letting it free, of letting go and becoming the hunter, the predator, the Devourer. And she knew that hunger was now as much a part of her as her skin. She knew that sooner or later she was going to let it free again. And that when she did, she was going to love it. She knew it, and she was terrified by it, and all she could think was - What the hell am I now?div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "By the way, that was pretty bad-ass, taking on an Anointed Knight like that" - Bella kept talking as she climbed - "And doing it solo - crazy, but bad-ass. You should have been a Titan." Not hearing any responses she looked back and saw Drez standing there - "Ah, shit. I keep forgetting you're all fucked up. And here I am running my mouth." She half jogged, half skid down the sloping floor and wrapped her left arm around Drez - "Sorry about that. Come on, lean on me."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"Drez shook her head, both to show that she was fine and to shake off this new set of doubts fighting for her attention - "No, really, I'm fine, I just spaced out."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Yeah, 'cause you're fucked up." - Bella gripped her shotgun in her right hand and started leading Bella back up - "Come on, princess. We're almost at comm depth."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Princess?" - Drez tried to sound indignant, but she was too damn beat to do even that properly. And it really did feel good to lean on Bella's armored shoulder. So good in fact, that she had to resist the urge to place her hand lower on the Titan's waist.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Hey, I call things like I see 'em. Russo's the leader, you're his younger niece" - if it was a struggle leading Drez up the steep incline, Bella did not show it - "And it's kinda pretty obvious he's worried about you. He's trying to treat you like you're a big bad Warlock now, all grown up, but he's still worried as hell. Like it or not, you're his little princess. And that means - you're our little princess."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "We're going to have to talk about that" - Drez said, and thought - Looks like no matter how old we get, I guess we're still just children trying to act grown.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"- "Sure" - Bella nodded in response - "We can talk about it over all the drinks you're going to buy me for saving your ass."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"Drez thought about arguing the point, that she didn't need to be saved, that she would have won that fight. But truth be told, she wasn't sure of that anymore. And drinks with Bella sounded pretty good, so instead she said - "Then it's a date."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"Bella turned her head to look at Drez, the helmet hiding her expression - "A date, huh?" - and then she laughed - "Sure, a date it is."div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;" Drez smiled, too winded to reply.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;" div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: center;" align="center"***div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"emI know you can hear me.em/div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"Silence. As expected.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"emYou don't have to answer. You just have to listen.em/div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"The Presence emshiftedem, as if unaccustomed to being addressed in that manner./div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"emCouple of things you need to get straight. I know you're older, but I was here first. So you're not clever, and you're not slick - I see what you're doing.em/div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"The Presence felt more focused now, more resolved. It was definitely paying attention.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"emI know this is what you do. It's all you do. But let me tell you something: not here. Not with her. I will not allow it.em/div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"Silence.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"emSo yeah, she might hate my guts - but she's still my Guardian, and I'm still her Ghost. I'm telling you now: I will see all three of us destroyed, before I let you have her.em/div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"Silence.div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"emDon't think I'm bluffing. My existence sucks balls as it is. You just keep on pushing, and see what happens to you.em/div  
>div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.6000003814697px; text-align: justify;"Silence. And then, like the flaking sound of peeling skin - laughter.div 


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